Of a Time Forgotten
by Jeva
Summary: [On Hold] 'He rubbed his forehead trying to rid of the pain and he closed his eyes, thinking that maybe the sun was making it worse. But the moment he closed them, his head exploded with more pain and he snapped his eyes open...'
1. Voices

_Author notes:_ Okay, I came up with this the morning after I went to the movie for the second time. I have read the trilogy, though I feel I should reread it. Too bad my sister's friend has it. *sighs* Oh well...continuing on...  
Oh, and this story takes place during our time. 2001 and not 2002. ^.~  
  
_Disclaimer:_ Er...I'm not even sure I own any of these characters. Because, well, you'll find out. The only person I own is Uncle Eric at this time. ^.~  
  
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Chapter One: Voices  
  
  
  
"I'll see you later, man!" a dark-haired, bright blue-eyed boy, who was in his mid-teens, called to his friend as he walked into a small white trailor.  
  
"Frank? That you?" an older male's voice called and the blue-eyed teenager chuckled slightly.  
  
"Nope. Just the IRS wanting to make your life miserable," he called out, walking into the small kitchen, where an older man, a man possibly in his mid-thirties, who was rustling about.  
  
"Oh, good! Now the IRS can do the dishes instead of my nephew, who loaths that job," he replied, while Frank laughed.  
  
Frank Johnson was an average teenager, that lived an average life with his below average uncle. Frank was a small boy compared to other people at his school. He always seemed to be slightly shorter than an average heighth person. Not that it bothered him.   
  
He loved his life.  
  
Although he had been orphaned at a young age and he had never known his parents, he lived with his father's brother, Eric Johnson. Frank's Uncle Eric was about the exact opposite of Frank, however.  
  
Uncle Eric was extremely tall and had light hair with piercing brown eyes, and he was even more athletic than his nephew would ever be. But the two lived almost fifteen happy years with one another and, Frank believed, that made up for the parents he had never really had.  
  
"Get a wife and I won't have to do them. It can't be _that_ hard to find someone." Frank replied as he looked in the ice box for a snack. Uncle Eric just shook his head.  
  
"Harder than you think," He paused as he watched his brother's son pull out a lot of food. "Didn't you already eat?"  
  
"Yeah," Frank answered, lying everything on the counter. "But I'm still hungry."  
  
"I thought Peter's mother's cooking would fill that pit you call a stomach," Uncle Eric said, shaking his head.  
  
"I went to Sean's house," Frank corrected with a grin as he set to work on making his snack. His uncle shook his head in disbelief once again.  
  
"How I get enough money to get enough food for you, I'll never understand," he said with a chuckle and headed for the trailor's door as he heard five loud knocks. Right when he opened it and saw the two grinning boys behind it, however, he slammed the door shut. Frank looked up, hearing the slam.  
  
"Who was it?" he asked as his uncle grumbled something for a moment.  
  
"Mark and Peter," he eventually answered, while Frank left the kitchen with a plate full of chips, pretzels, leftover pizza, and two sandwhiches. "You go outside with them. They'll eat us out of trailor and trash if we let them in."  
  
Frank smirked and walked out of the trailor, his plate on his hand and his coke under his arm. "Mark! Peter! What, you thought Uncle Eric needed someone else to eat all the food?"   
  
Peter, the youngest of the three (only fourteen, while Mark was just-turned-fifteen and Frank was almost-sixteen), gave Frank a mischievious grin. His light brown hair, which was fairly longer than the other two boy's, hung in his eyes, which were a odd shade of bright green, giving him the look that he was ready to get himself in trouble again.  
  
"Nah, just thought you would have your schedule--"  
  
"You do, don't you?" Mark interrupted, getting a frown from Peter.  
  
Mark and Peter were both slightly taller than Frank, but that really didn't bother him much. What did bother him was Mark's suspicious emerald eyes, that always seemed to be asking if Frank had did something wrong without him.   
  
"Of course I do! But you're both a year below me," Frank answered, sitting on the trailor's steps and wondering if the two were up to something again. Mark scanned over his friend while he ate, his unnerving stare giving Frank a shudder, and brushed a hand over his light, lighter than Peter's, hair.  
  
Before Mark said anything though, Peter shrugged and said, "We could have lunch together. Maybe even P.E."  
  
"You have first shift, right?" Mark asked Peter, who nodded, and the two went into a quick discussion in hushed voices. The two usually did this often and it was hard to imagine that the two of them weren't even related.  
  
Frank watched them, amused, as he bit into his second sandwhich. He had come to learn that when the two of them talked with each other in hushed voices, they were planning something involving him. Looking around for a moment, waiting for the two to begin talking to him again, Frank wondered if Sean was going to stop by, though he had just been over to his house.  
  
"So," Mark began, breaking Frank's thoughts. "What shift have you got?"  
  
Frank shrugged and bit into a chip. "First."   
  
Peter and Mark exchanged galnces and grinned at each other, Peter more so than Mark. Frank watched them curiously, trying to guess what the two had planned.  
  
"You two aren't going to do anything to me on my birthday, are you?" he asked and Peter frowned, while Mark sighed.  
  
"How do you always guess what we're planning?" Peter asked, while Frank laughed at his friend's expressions.  
  
"You two are too obvious. Plus, you _always_ do something to me on my brithday," he answered putting his now empty plate down on the ground. Peter grinned at that, remembering all of the things they had done to Frank on his birthday.  
  
"Well, this time it was going to be something you would like. At least, Sean and I thought you would like it. Peter here suggested we do the same thing to you as always. But this is your sixteenth birthday!" Mark said, giving Peter a disapproving look.  
  
"Oh, really? You aren't going to do anything illegal, are you?" Frank asked with a grin. School was supposed to begin the day after tomorrow and then a few weeks later, on September 22nd, it would be Frank's birthday. And to get suspended in the first few weeks of school...  
  
"Oh, you know us. We just love surprises!" Peter answered with the grin on his face growing wider. Mark, however, looked over to Peter and hit him in the back of the head.  
  
"We're supposed to act like we don't know anything! Have you learned nothing I have taught you..." Mark began as the two went into a quick disagreement, but Frank didn't hear the rest as he suddenly got a headache.  
  
He rubbed his forehead trying to rid of the pain and he closed his eyes, thinking that maybe the sun was making it worse. But the moment he closed them, his head exploded with more pain and he snapped his eyes open, seeing Mark and Peter looking at him concerned.  
  
"Are you all right?" Mark asked, but it seemed distant. Frank nodded his head, which made the ground spin under him and he leaned his head back against the door, his throat going dry.  
  
"That doesn't look all right," he distantly heard Peter--no, not Peter--say. "Fra--do?"  
  
Confused at why Peter--or was it someone else?--called him Frado, Frank shook his head a bit and the dizziness seemed to clear and it _was_ Peter and Mark who were watching him, worriedly.   
  
Sitting up away from the door, Frank held his head with one hand and held up the other. "I'm all right. I'm all right," he assured them.  
  
Mark and Peter blew sighs of relief. "You had us scared. You just started sweating and clutching your head...you're sure you're all right?" Mark said, concerned.   
  
Frank nodded and with help from Peter, stood up. "Yeah, I'm fine now. Only...why'd you call me Frado, Peter?" he asked.  
  
Mark and Peter exchanged glances. "He didn't call you Frado...he called you Frank. You know, your name?" Mark answered, now more worried about his friend's condition.  
  
"You're _sure_ you're all right?" Peter asked and Frank jerked his arm free from Peter, getting annoyed that they didn't believe him.  
  
"I'm _fine_. Just fine. I gotta go in though," he told them, bending over to pick up his plate and coke can. When he had the plate in his hand, though, he remembered how Peter's voice hadn't sounded the same.   
  
"It is getting kind of late," Mark said, looking worriedly at Frank, but, at the same time, gave him a look that told him he disapproved of his anger towards their concern. "Come on, Peter."  
  
And with that, the two almost brothers left and Frank went into his trailor, leaning against the door when he had closed it, wondering what had happened. He didn't have much time to think, though, as his uncle came in and gave him a concerned look.  
  
"Are you okay? You look a bit pale," he said, taking noticed to his nephew's damp hair. Frank, getting slightly annoyed with everyone asking if he was all right, nodded and walked into the kitchen.  
  
He was fine. Just fine. He just got dizzy, was all. Nothing out of the ordinary there.  
  
  
  
  
  
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My first LOTR fic. Hoped you liked it. Believe me, it gets better. ^.~ 


	2. The Fellowship of the Ring

_Author's notes:_ Oh, wow. Reviews! ^.^   
  
CoolMistaria1: This isn't exactly boy-gets-sucked-into-Middle-earth. Actually it has nothing to do with getting in Middle-earth. I suggest you stay around though. This story will get interesting. Also, I had an idea for a boy getting into Middle-earth. Be expecting it. ^.~  
  
rome: Hm...Stick around and find out if your suspicions are correct.  
  
_Disclaimer:_ I OWN NOTHING! Only Uncle Eric really! I actually own the use of the names Frank, Mark, Peter, Sean, Mr. White...*covers her mouth* I better stop before I give out all teh names and give away too much. ^.^  
  
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Chapter Two: The Fellowship of the Ring  
  
  
  
It was the night before Frank had to go to school and the boy did not have a peaceful sleep. Tossing and turning in his bed, he dreamt of people he had never seen before, heard voices he had never heard before.  
  
When morning came, however, his uncle woke him, jerking him from the distant voices and events. As he got himself ready for school, he tried to remember what his dreams had been about, but shook his head when he couldn't.  
  
"You're gonna be late!" Uncle Eric called. Hopping on one foot with a comb between his teeth, Frank struggled to get his shoe on.  
  
As he hopped around, his other foot caught itself on a basball bat and he fell over with a dull thud. There was a knock on his bedroom door after he had managed to get up and put his shoe on successfully.  
  
"You okay in there?" his uncle called. Frank rushed to the mirror in his room to fix his hair.  
  
"Yeah!" he called back and swiftly ran the comb through his short hair.  
  
After doing that, he laid his comb down and rushed to his bed, where his books were, grabbed them, grabbed his jacket, and rushed out the door. As he made a mad dash to the door, his uncle slowed him down and held up an apple.  
  
Looking pitiful with his arms full of books and his jacket, Frank felt his stomach growl. Uncle Eric chuckled and held the apple near his nephew's mouth. Getting the idea, Frank sank his teeth into the fruit, called his muffled thanks, and dashed out the door.  
  
As he jogged down the street to the bus stop, he struggled to put his jacket on and only succeeded in getting one of his arms in. He heard Mark and Peter's snickers when he reached the stop. The two obvious found his situation extremely humorous. Eventually, the two gave him a hand and Frank got his jacket all the way on and began to eat his apple.  
  
"Woke up late, eh?" Peter asked, still grinning at Frank's arrival. Rolling his eyes, Frank took another bite of the apple, thinking about the dream he couldn't remember.  
  
It took less than five minutes for Frank to finish his apple and the bus to arrive. Climbing on the bus, he spotted his other friend Sean sitting near the middle of the bus with an empty seat behind him.  
  
Frank made his way over as the bus began to move and sat next to Sean, while Mark and Peter sat behind them.  
  
"Hey, Sean. You have a fun summer?" Frank asked his friend with a grin on his face. Sean only shook his head.  
  
"Not really. Yesterday my dad caught a case of the flu and is now making _me_ do the chores alone," his friend answered and Frank patted him sympathetically on the shoulder.  
  
Before Frank could say anything, the voice of his youngest friend said, "That's not too bad. You should be careful around Frank when he's sick--"  
  
"Peter," Mark said, eyeing Frank to see if he's let his temper loose.  
  
"The day before yesterday, he suddenly went all pale and sweaty while Mark and I were talking to him--" Peter continued and would have said something else, but Mark's hand lifted as if to hit the younger boy on the head.  
  
Frank rolled his eyes and blew a sigh. A moment later, he noticed Sean was giving him a concerned look.  
  
"I'm fine, Sean," he assured his friend. "That happened two days ago."  
  
"But what if it happens again while you're riding your bike--"  
  
"I don't have a bike."  
  
"--or driving a car--"  
  
"Don't have a car either." Frank then paused and smiled at his friend, who was always concerned when anyone was sick or wounded. "I'm all right, Sean. No worries."  
  
  
  
  
Frank began to think that he had been wrong about 'no worries'. His first class of the day, unfortunately, was English, a class he dreaded. Most people dreaded the class actually, because Mr. White taught the class.  
  
Mr. White was supposed to be the strangest and most odd teacher out there, with teaching methods that made no sense but still seemed to work. Although he helped many students get better grades, he also had the most unusual punishments. No one knew what he was going to have the next person who caused trouble do.  
  
And even worse than the teacher were the assignments.  
  
"This year, you will all read six novels. I have already selected the first three," Mr. White had begun once everyone found a seat. "And I am sure you all will enjoy them."  
  
Frank, who chose a seat at the front of the class because he didn't have good grades in the area of English (even though he spoke the language), studied the odd teacher.  
  
Indeed, he was odd. The man seemed to be in his late-thirties, possibly early-forties, and had a streak of silver that ran right on the middle of his head. What was odd about him, from what Frank could see, was that while the man spoke he seemed to be looking all around the room by the movement of his head. But, Frank then noticed, his eyes were actually focused on a certain point.  
  
Frank looked around to see what the teacher was looking at and, when he looked up at Mr. White again, their eyes locked. For a moment, their eyes stayed locked and neither blinked nor looked away.  
  
Finally, after a while, too unnerved to hold the man's gaze, Frank lowered his eyes and looked at the ground. He could feel a small bead of sweat run down his face as the teacher conitued talking.  
  
"Now, I'll have you know that no one here has to check out or buy the first three novels. I have the first set of novels here today. So when I call your name, please step up and claim your Fellowship of the Ring," Mr. White said and Frank looked up to the book the teacher held in recognition.  
  
He had heard of that book. Where and when he didn't know, but he _knew_ he had heard the title somewhere.  
  
"Tiffany Stewart. Matt Generoso..." Mr. White conitued. After a while, when most of the students had a book, Mr. White finally called out Frank name.  
  
Frank got out of his seat and made his way over to the teacher, who held out the book for him to take. When Frank reached out to take it with his eyes lowered, Mr. White quickly retracted the book.  
  
Confused, Frank looked up and again their gazes locked. But instead of feeling only unnerved, Frank felt both unnerved and a sense of something familiar.  
  
The old man's blue eyes seemed like those of an old friend, but that wasn't right. Before school, Frank has never known the odd teacher, and yet...  
  
Frank was broken from his thought as Mr. White began to speak.   
  
"Young Frank Johnson," he began quietly, as if he did not want anyone else to hear. "When you read this book, you will find there is a great deal you do not know about yourself. This book shows you a time of which you have forgotten. Do try and keep an open mind when you are reading this. It is greatly important that you understand."  
  
With that, the teacher handed the book calmly to its temporary owner and patted him on the shoulder. Confused and bewildered, Frank went slowly back to his seat, running Mr. White's words in his head and studying the cover of the book.   
  
  
  
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Hehe. Second chapter! Hope you all enjoyed! Oh, and be expecting another fic from me! It's going to be just as good as this, and if not, then better! ^.~  
  



	3. Black Riders

_Author's notes:_ *gasps* You like me! You weally wike me! *sniffles* ^.^ Thank you all for the lovely reviews! You know I can never get enough of them! ^.^  
  
_Disclaimer:_ Like I said before, I basically only own Uncle Eric and the plot of this fic, nothing else.   
  
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Chapter Three: Black Riders  
  
  
  
"Hey, Frank! This way, Frank!" Frank sighed and went over to where Mark and Peter were. It was lunch time and the strange event that occured in his English class was still in Frank's mind.  
  
"Hey, Mark, Peter," Frank greeted as he sat down and shoved his tray aside, not hungry. Mark eyed the tray for a moment before looking up to his older friend.  
  
"You're not eating?" he asked, surprised, and received a negative as Frank pulled out his book from English.  
  
"Since you're not eating, can I have your fries?" Peter asked, taking the french fries off of Frank's plate. A moment later, with a look over to Frank, he also took his pizza.  
  
"You're reading The Lord of the Rings?" Mark asked, stealing some of Peter's new fries. Frank shrugged and put the book on the table.  
  
"We were assigned to read it in English. Your know about the book?" he asked and waited for an answer since Mark had taken a bite of his pizza when Frank began his question.  
  
"_Books_," Mark corrected after swallowing. "It's a trilogy and you've got the first book of it. It's pretty interesting."  
  
Frank looked curiously at his friend. "You've read it?"  
  
"When I was little, my mom read it to me. She did a great job doing Galadriel's lines. Dad helped too," Mark said and snickered as he remembered his dad's bad impressions of the characters he read.  
  
Frank smiled lightly and turned the book over to the back. "Elves, Dwarves, and...Hobbits?" he read aloud.  
  
"Furry-footed, short people," Mark explained, swatting Peter's hand away from his fries. Frank gave his friend a curious look.  
  
"Huh...why would someone write about...furry-footed, short people?" he asked, turning the book back over to the front cover. Mark rolled his eyes at him.  
  
"It's not just about them. It's about a Ring that an evil dark lord needs to regain strength and control all of Middle-earth again. The Hobbits just happened to find the Ring and one of them had to go on a quest to destroy it," Mark answered as if he was talking to a five-year-old. "You'd like it, trust me."  
  
"So...does he destroy it?" Frank asked, hoping that Mark would tell him.  
  
"I can't tell you that! That'd be spoiling everything!" his friend exclaimed, while Peter succeeded in taking some of Mark's fries. Mark glared daggers at the younger boy.  
  
Frank laughed at the two. "Hey, listen, I have to get something out of my locker for math," he told them, standing up and grabbing his book.  
  
Mark and Peter looked up at him. "You're not allowed up stairs during lunch," Mark pointed out.  
  
"You two break the rules all the time. I can't afford to get another zero on my homework just because I forgot it in my locker," Frank said, looking pointedly at Peter, who tried his best to look innocent.  
  
"All right, fine. But if you get caught, we're denying that we know you," Mark told him and Frank laughed.  
  
"Sure. See you guys later," he said and walked off just as Peter got hit in the head for stealing another of Mark's fries.  
  
  
  
  
Frank made sure none of the teachers on duty were watching when he snuck his way up the stairs and into the long, empty, off-white hallways. As he made his way to his locker, he listened to the sounds of his leather shoes hitting the white tile. He had always wondered why whoever built the school just had the hallways white and off-white with no colors except the green lockers.  
  
When he made it in front of his locker, he tossed his booksack that he had kept on while talking to Mark and Peter to the ground and worked on getting his locker open. As he was doing this, there was some footsteps around the far corner at the other end of the hall.  
  
Afraid it was a teacher, Frank grabbed his booksack and ran quickly and silently into an unlocked classroom that was dark. He was lucky it had been unlocked and that no one was in the room. He was also lucky that there weren't many classes in that hall, meaning there weren't much classes going on.  
  
He listened to the echoing footsteps as he stood in the dark room, his back against the door. He strained his ears as the footsteps disappeared altogether. Confused, Frank began to wonder if he should open the door and look.  
  
Deciding that it was best, Frank opened the door a small crack and looked out, only to yelp in surprise and fright as a person dressed in a black cloak stood in front of the door. Frank dropped his booksack, knowing that this person was _definitely_ not supposed to be in the school.  
  
The person walked into the room slowly as Frank backed away, not knowing he was still clutching the book in his right hand. "Frank Johnson?" the strange person seemed to hiss, cocking its head to the side.  
  
Too scared to answer, Frank just managed a nod and stumbled when he backed into a student chair. The person just followed him and soon Frank was against the wall, while the person was right in his face. Though the person was in his face, he couldn't see its face.  
  
Swallowing, to wet his dry throat, Frank spoke. "W-what do you w-want?" he stuttered, but got no reply, because at that moment the classroom door flew open and the light turned on.  
  
Frank blinked as his eyes got used to the brightness, but when they did adjust, he saw that the other person was gone and Mr. White was the other person who had entered the room.  
  
Mr. White took quick notice to the panting, sweating boy in his class room. "Mr. Johnson, are you all right?" he asked, concerned.  
  
Frank looked around the room, trying to see where the other person could have gone, but, after seeing no sign of it, he nodded. Mr. White went up to him and studied him for a moment.  
  
"If you are quite fine, I'm sure you'll be able to tell me what you are doing in my classroom during your lunch break," he said and carefully watched the youth, who looked like he wanted to make a break for it.  
  
"I-I was getting some homework I forgot in my locker. S-students aren't allowed up here duriong lunch, so I--" Frank began, but Mr. White nodded.  
  
"Ah, so when you thought there was a teacher coming, you hid in my room, is that it?" he asked and Frank nodded quickly, praying he wasn't going to get in trouble for this.   
  
"Well, go get your stuff from your locker quickly and with this note," Mr. White finished, handing him a small piece a paper that had something he had just written on it. Frank took it, said a quiet thanks, and quickly went to pick up his booksack.  
  
Before he left the room, Frank looked carefully to see if the strange person was out there. When he saw that there was no one out there, he quickly ran to his locker, without noticing Mr. White's extremely concerned and troubled face.  
  
  
  
  
"Mark! Peter!" Frank called as he made his way back to the lunch table. He was still shaking and was still very much afraid from his strange encounter from that strange person.  
  
"Hey, Frank," the two greeted together as Frank tossed his booksack down, forgetting again about the book he held.   
  
"You two aren't going to believe me when I tell you what happened--" Frank started, but was interrupted when Peter grinned.  
  
"You got in trouble, didn't you?" he asked and gave Frank a look as if to tell him that he was proud of Frank getting in trouble for once.  
  
"No. Instead there was this person that was dressed all in black--" Frank began but this time Mark interrupted.  
  
"Uh, Frank...you're going to tear up the cover the way you're gripping it," he told him and Frank then noticed how he was still holding the book tightly. Shaking his head, he put it on the table. "And I think you like the Black Riders too much."  
  
"Black Riders? If they're characters in the book, I don't know about them because I haven't started reading it yet," Frank said, getting odd looks from his two friends.  
  
"Are you saying you really saw some person dressed in black in the Locker Hall?" Mark asked, still not sure what to make of Frank's story. Frank nodded quickly and held out his shaking hands.  
  
"Would I be shaking this bad if I were lying?" hhe asked, while the two just watched his hands shaking uncontrollably.  
  
"Did the person in black see you?" Peter asked, in wonder. Frank nodded again and quickly looked around the lunchroom, looking for anymore people dressed in black.   
  
"He...she...it--whatever it was--asked if I was Frank Johnson," he told them and Mark's eyes widened, while Peter's jaw fell open. They were beginning to believe Frank because Frank was not one that would lie to his friends.  
  
"What did you do to have people looking for you...in school?!" Peter exclaimed, nearly yelling.  
  
"Sh!" Mark hissed, looking to see if anyone had heard. Frank shook his head.  
  
"I didn't do anything!" Frank shouted and Mark hissed for him to be quiet.   
  
"Well, I'm clueless as to what you did. Why would someone be looking for you, anyway?" Peter said and suddenly Mr. White's words from earlier that morning came to him mind.  
  
_'When you read this book, you will find there is a great deal you do not know about yourself. This book shows you a time of which you have forgotten. Do try and keep an open mind when you are reading this. It is greatly important that you understand.'_  
  
Frank looked down at the book, who's cover was slightly wet after being in his sweaty palms for a while.   
  
  
  
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Chapter Three is now over. Hope you're liking this now. All will be explained soon...or maybe Frank will get into more trouble. ^.~ Stay tuned!  
  



	4. The Ring Bearer

_Author's notes:_ Ooooh! I need to give out prizes! Prizes are at the end of the fic! Enjoy everyone!  
  
_Disclaimer:_ I own nothing! ^.^  
  
  
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Chapter Four: The Ring Bearer  
  
  
  
"Frank?" Mark asked, concern creeping into his voice. Frank looked away from the book and then over to his friend.  
  
"You said something about Black Riders? They were in the book, right?" Frank asked slowly and Mark nodded, not sure what he meant.  
  
"They were Ring Wraiths. They looked for the Hobbit that was carrying the Ring," he said, while Frank was quietly thinking of explanations for what was going on and what Mr. white had said, while Peter just listened to the two, confused and bewildered.  
  
"What was the Hobbit's name?" Franks asked suddenly and Mark shook his head.  
  
"Frank, just rea--"  
  
"Just tell me," Frank said, but, before Mark could say anything, the bell rang and signaled the the of lunch. Frank blew a sigh of frustration and slammed his head on the table, thinking of several explanations he had came up with, but knew none of them would work.  
  
Mark and Peter just watched him for a moment.  
  
"Uh, Frank...don't you have math?" Peter asked, breaking the silence from the three.  
  
"I'll go in a minute," Frank replied, not moving his head. He was still trying to piece the puzzle together, but he was still missing several pieces.  
  
"...we're going to get to class. You gonna be all right?" Mark said, pausing before speaking, not sure if Frank in frustration would hear him. But Frank waved a hand, as if to say he would be fine, so Peter and him both left the cafeteria.  
  
When the two were gone, Frank sat up and then stood up, grabbing his things and began to walk towards his math class. His moment of quiet thinking was interrupted when someone ran into him and he fell over backwards.  
  
Looking up in annoyance, he paused when he saw the person who knocked him over was a girl in his math class known as Erin. She scowled at him for a moment, then, after Frank got up and picked up his stuff, she put her hands on her hips and glared at him.  
  
"Why do you always have to run into me?" she demanded and, Frank, not in the mood to deal with her at the moment, just brushed passed her. Of course, she wouldn't let him go that easily.  
  
"Hey, Johnson! Who do you think you are--" she started again, but stopped when he stopped walking.  
  
"Erin, I'm _not_ in the mood. Sorry for walking into you, but please drop it," he said to her and then noticed that the hall was almost empty. Sighing in frustration again, Frank started walking again at a faster pace.   
  
Erin followed him.   
  
Erin had sometimes seen Frank upset, but this time he wasn't exactly upset. Instead, he was shaking a bit, as if he had just been scared witless, he was tense, and his eyes constantly wondered around the hall. His eyes, however, froze on her for a moment. He saw her staring at him.  
  
"What?" he asked, a bit tensely. Erin frowned for moment.   
  
It was odd that they were even walking down the same hall together, without her insulting him or them bumping into each other. Everyone in the school basically knew that the two loathed each other and they both tried their best to keep away from one another. But what they didn't know was that Erin was beginning to see Frank more than person she hated. He was becoming a handsome man after all...  
  
Erin snapped out of her thoughts and scowled. "Nothing," she answered stiffly, began to walk faster, and went into the room. Frank just stared as she went, her blonde, pony tailed hair swishing back and forth, hitting a few loiterers in the face.  
  
He shook his head and sighed, walking into the room just as the bell rang.  
  
  
  
It was after school and Frank was stuck waiting for his uncle to pick him up. Uncle Eric usually picked him up after school because in the afternoon the bus was usually crowded and some people actually sat in the aisle.   
  
The fact that Uncle Eric worked in a place near by made it easier as well.  
  
Frank looked at his watch and saw that his uncle was _very_ late. For a moment, he wondering if he could walk all the way from the school to his trailer. Of course he would never try it, since he lived on the other side of town.  
  
"No ride, Mr. Johnson?" a voice asked and Frank jumped, spinning around to see Mr. White walking out of the school. Frank sighed in relief, but was beginning to become curious why Mr. White seemed to appear a lot.  
  
Shrugging, Frank answered, "I think my uncle's car broke down again."  
  
"Ah, yes," Mr. White said, stopping in front of the boy. "Eric Johnson's infamous car."  
  
Frank eyed the teacher curiously. "How do you know about my uncle?" he asked, tightening his hold on the book, which he was on page one. Mr. White just smiled down at him.  
  
"Oh, I know a lot about your uncle. One reason being that we use to work in the same company before you were born," the teacher said, sitting down on the bench and turning to Frank with a sparkle in his eyes. "I also know a great deal about _you_, Mr. Johnson."  
  
Frank paused for a minute, looking at the book in his hands. "So then...you would know about the person I saw in your room?" he asked, slowly.  
  
Mr. White frowned, his forehead wrinkling with worry lines. "A person? What was this person like?"  
  
Frank wasn't sure if he should tell the teacher. He thought it crazy himself that the person he had saw in the classroom had been like the Riders Mark had talked about.   
  
"He..she..it was dressing in all black and it hissed when it spoke--" Frank stopped himself when Mr. White went suddenly pale. "Mr. White?"  
  
"They've started too early. How could I have thought they would have waited longer?" the teacher muttered to himself and Frank was beginning to get fearful at the way he was talking.  
  
"Mr. White?" he asked again, quietly. The teacher muttered some mild curses and turned to Frank with both sadness and worry in his old eyes.  
  
"Frank, I am sorry that you had to encounter that...creature without knowing anything. I am also sorry that I have to tell you everything at once..."  
  
"Wait a minute! What are you talking about?" Frank asked, getting really frightened at how his teacher was acting. Mr. White laid a hand on Frank's shoulder in order to calm him, but instead, Frank got even more panicked.  
  
"What I told you in the classroom today...I'm afraid that it is true. The book you hold in your hands tells the adventures of a Hobbit by the name of Frodo Baggins, who journeyed to the Dark Land to be rid of an evil Ring--"   
  
"Mark...told me that..." Frank said softly, and remembered the time, two days ago, when he had thought he had thought Peter had called him Frado.  
  
"Mark? You're friend, no doubt," Mr. White muttered, but then continued, "All that happens in the trilogy really happened many, many years ago. And I am afraid to tell you that you were once a part of that past, of that adventure."  
  
There was a long pause, but then Frank, shaking and standing up, sputtered, "Bu-but th-that's not p-possible!"  
  
Mr. White gave him a sympathetic look. This was not how he had planned him at all.   
  
"I am afraid it is. In your past life, you were known as Frodo Baggins, the Hobbit, of the Shir--" Frank clamped his hands over his ears and began to shout incoherent things, while Mr. White stood and tried to comfort the confused boy, but Frank backed away from him ever time he came closer.  
  
After a while the old man stood away from the boy, who was yelling that he was crazy, and waited calmly for a moment.  
  
"Frank!" Mr. White shouted suddenly, startling Frank enough for him to drop his hands from his ears as he fell onto the ground.   
  
Frank stared up at his English teacher and tears of frustration and disbelief filled his wide eyes. Mr. White sighed and went over to the youth, who backed away from him when he got nearer.  
  
"Frank, I know this is hard, but you must pull yourself together. If they come to you again, they just might complete their mission--"  
  
"Pull myself together?" Frank repeated in disbelief and gave the teacher a tear-filled glare. "You expect me to keep calm after you tell me some people are out to do hell knows what to me--!"  
  
Mr. White nodded. "I know, I know. But it is all true. I am sorry you have to go through this, but it seems fate is cruel yet again."   
  
  
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The is more to come! ^.^ This was the longest chapter yet! Hope you all enjoyed. Oh, jeez. Don't you feel so bad for Frank now? And now, time for prizes!  
  
First prize (a golden-chocolate goose egg ^.^) goes to: rome for being the first to review, the first to guess if Frank was Frodo, the first to state that Mr. White was Gandalf, and suggesting the person in black was a Nazgul.. ^.~  
  
Second prize (a chocolate frog that has jelly insects inside it! ^.^) goes to: Ghost of Christmas Future for the strangest review yet! ^.~  
  
Last prize (a pack of bons-bons! ^.^) goes to: Mistoffelees for hitting the nail right on the head! ^.~  
  
Congrats to all!  
  
  
  



	5. Meridoc Brandybuck

_Author's Notes:_ Eh, I don't think I have much to say for this post. But I'm glad everyone's enjoying the fic! ^.^   
  
_Disclaimer:_: Anyone think that this thing is annoying? Go ask J.R.R. Tolkien if I own any of them! ^.~  
  
---------------  
  
  
Chapter Five: Meridoc Brandybuck  
  
  
  
Frank shook his head slowly with his eyes filling still with more tears filling his eyes, but he knew he couldn't deny anything that the teacher was saying. He _knew_ that what Mr. White was saying was true. All of it.  
  
While he sat on the ground, looking up to the tall man, Frank could hear the sounds of horses screeching, men yelling, swords clashing, and he could feel a piercing cold hit his left shoulder. While all this was entering his already confused and terrified mind, he clutched his left shoulder and felt a tear fall down his cheek.  
  
Mr. White squatted down next to Frank and, this time, Frank did not move away. The boy didn't look his teacher in the eye as he struggled to sort everything out in his foggy mind. Only when he felt a hand rest on his right shoulder did he look up.  
  
"Frank. You must try your best to remain calm. I understand how difficult this is, receiving all the painful memories of your former life, but you must remain calm. The person you saw in my room was what was left of the Nazgul. There are only seven now. They are extremely weak, but they are trying to get you for reasons I do not quite know," Mr. White told him softly.  
  
Frank wiped his free hand across his eyes and sighed, but nodded eventually.  
  
The icy sting in his left shoulder was beginning to fade, but the memories of Frodo Baggins assaulted his mind, leaving him numb.  
  
He could feel the cold of the night on Weathertop and the heat of the fires of Mount Doom. He could feel the pain in his hand, as if one of his fingers had been bitten off. Looking down at it, he saw that his hand still had all five fingers but the pain lingered as Frodo's memory of Gullom biting his finger off played through his head.  
  
"Why now?" Frank croaked and swallowed to wet his dry throat. "Why me? Why do they want _me_?"  
  
Mr. White shook his head. "I do not understand why they chose now to begin their assault. It could be possible that they knew you were remembering yourself. Why they chose you is an obvious answer. You were the one who destroyed the Dark Lord in your past life and, in order to bring about a new Age of Darkness, they believe they must be rid of you."  
  
Frank looked at his hand again, his other one still clutching at his left shoulder even though the pain had long since vanished.  
  
"Am I...alone this time? Are you the only one that can help me?" he asked quietly after receiving Frodo's memories of Merry, Pippin, Sam, Aragorn, Legolas, Gimli, Boromir, and Gandalf.  
  
Mr. White gave the youth a smile. "No. There are others, of course. Mark, Peter, Sean..." He trailed off, while Frank had a hint of a smile on his face, relieved that he wasn't going to be alone. "But...I'm afraid that what one of us, or both, must also dump all of this on them as well."  
  
At this, Frank frowned and looked at his free hand again. "I don't wan--" he started, but the sound of a car coming closer cut him off.  
  
Mr. White looked up for a moment. "I believe that is your uncle. Remember, Frank, do not try anything alone. Always have someone with you. We cannot afford to loose you," he said, standing up and helping Frank up.  
  
Frank nodded, looking at the ground for a moment and releasing his shoulder, but looked up again when a thought came to mind.  
  
"Mr. White? If you know so much...you must have been one of the Fellowship. Which one were you?" he asked and received another smile.  
  
"Ah, I knew you'd ask that one sooner or later. And yes, I was a member of the Fellowship. A wizard, by the name of Gandalf," the teacher answered as the car pulled up where the two were.  
  
Frank gave Mr. White a small smile, nodded, turned to the car, and climbed in.  
  
Mr. White watched as the car drove off, while a smile. But that smile soon turned into a grim fown. There was much to be done if they were to stop the coming of a second Age of Darkness.  
  
  
  
As Uncle Eric drove the car back to their trailer, he watched his nephew, who was sitting quietly in the passenger seat, watching the scenery pass by. A bit unnerved and worried at why Frank was so quiet, he tapped the steering wheel for a moment, before clearing his throat.  
  
"So," he began, looking over to his nephew, who made no acknowledgement that someone was talking to him. "How was school?"  
  
"Same," Frank answered, not looking toward his uncle.  
  
He felt horrible.   
  
There were seven people, possibly more, out to kill him just because of who he had been so long ago. His friends were in danger as well, because of how close they were to him and who _they_ had been. Not only that, but his _uncle_ was in danger also and Frank couldn't bear it if something ever happened to him.  
  
"Same? So that would basically mean that your day started crummy, it got better, you ran into Erin, and then it went downhill?" Uncle Eric asked, looking over to his nephew for a moment.  
  
"Pretty much," Frank replied, still not looking over to his uncle.  
  
He was partially afraid that if his uncle saw his face, which had confusion, worry, pain, and saddness all in one expression, he would ask what was the matter and then when Frank would explain, his uncle would think him crazy.  
  
_But at least I'm not alone in a room with a Nazgûl in it,_ he thought with a shudder.  
  
The car ride home was extremely quiet. While Uncle Eric couldn't stand the strange quiet, Frank was glad he could get some time to sort things out. The only problem was that whenever he would close his eyes in concentration, he would start feeling as if a Nazgûl was behind him with a sword or a dagger, ready to stab him.  
  
When the two _did_ get home, Frank was greeted with the sight of Mark and Peter. The two still seemed a bit concerned for their friend after what happened at lunch, but they tried their best not to let it show.  
  
"Hey, Frank! What took you so long? We've been waiting here nearly twenty minutes!" Mark exclaimed, while Peter was picking the grass off the lawn and studied each blade he plucked.  
  
Frank wouldn't be able to do as Mr. White had said. He couldn't be the one to tell the two almost-brothers about their past lives, about the evil that was coming for him. He didn't want to hurt them with the knowledge of the danger he was in and memories of their former selves.  
  
Frank waved to the two, struggling to keep a mask of cheerfullness on his face, but he must have been doing a terrible job because Mark eyed him suspiciously, as if knowing, already, of the dangers.  
  
"Frank, try to keep these two out of the trailer, while I go in and make _us_ dinner," Uncle Eric said, giving Peter a pointed look. Peter's face fell slightly.  
  
"Aw, Eric, I always come here for the food! And you never let us have any!" he complained frowning at the older man. Frank's uncle rolled his eyes.  
  
"After Thanksgiving, I've learned to keep you two away from my food. I already have trouble keeping up with Frank's appetite!" he said, walking into the trailer.  
  
Peter rolled his eyes, plucking another blade of grass. Mark continued to eye Frank until the older boy turned away from his friend and watched an ant on the ground.   
  
"Are you all right, Frank?" Mark asked, getting Peter's attention away from the grass and to his oldest friend.   
  
Frank didn't know what he should tell them. It was painful enough knowing that he was endangering them by being around them. Sighing, Frank gave a slight shrug and looked back over to Mark.  
  
"Yes, I guess..." He paused a moment, then, knowing that neither believed him, he sat on the first step of his trailer and shook his head. "No. I guess I'm not all right."  
  
Mark and Peter went over to their freind, not exactly sure what the matter could be. "What's wrong?" Peter asked, sitting on Frank's left, while Mark sat on his right.  
  
Frank was silent a moment, but eventually answered, "If I tell you, you would either think I'm crazy or you would believe me and then..."  
  
He didn't want them to think that he was in trouble. They might think it was gang members or something, instead of seven Nazgul hunting for his head. But neither Mark nor Peter would stand only half an answer.  
  
"And then...?" Peter prompted, but only got silence as a reply.  
  
"Is it about that person in black?" Mark asked and Frank thought that he would have mocked a game show, saying he won a brand new car, but, instead, said nothing and nodded his head slightly.  
  
"Gang members?" Peter asked suddenly, but Frank shook his head.  
  
He couldn't tell them. It would only put them in more danger...or...would not knowing put them in even more danger? Frank held his head with his right hand as Frodo's memory of how much he had wanted to tell Pippin about what had been going on when he was on his way to Merry's came into his head.  
  
Extremely ironic.  
  
"Frank, we can't help you if we don't know exactly what's wrong," Mark said, exasperated, while Peter nodded in agreement.  
  
Frank tried to form words but they were lost as soon as they got to his mouth. After a moment, he whispered, "If I tell you, yes you can help me, but...you'd be in trouble yourselves as well."   
  
Mark, who had a deep frown on his face, exchanged a look with Peter.  
  
"Frank, we want to help. We're your friends and we can't allow you to do all of...whatever it is alone," Mark said, ironically almost saying something Merry said when Merry told Frodo of the conspiracy they had.  
  
Frank looked over to Mark for a moment before looking over to Peter.  
  
"All right. But I assure you right now, that I am not crazy and that this is absolutely true." He paused for a moment. "Those books, The Lord of the Rings...they're true and at the moment, there are seven Nazgûl after me because I used to be Frodo Baggins."  
  
After saying that, Frank held his breath, waiting for someone to say something, and was surprised that Mark was the first to say something. Mark's face was basically unreadable and he seemed paler than he had been before.  
  
"I already knew," he whispered, looking over to his two friends. "I found out today, before school."  
  
  
  
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Eep! Well, this is sure getting interesting isn't it? ^.~ Chapter Six should be coming soon, probably tomorrow, since I have a three day weekend. Whoo! Yay for me! ^.~ Hope you all enjoyed! 


	6. Nightmares

_Author's Notes:_ Hehe, glad everyone liked the ending of Chapter Five! ^.^  
  
mamfa: You know, after you made that comment I considered having one of the Fellowship members as a female...lol! This should have good reactions.  
  
Danielle53: Glad you enjoy it! Hope you'll stay tune!  
  
CoolMistaria1:Sure I can end it like that! It is very easy! ^.^ *blinks* One of your favs? On Ff.n? Whoa...you're really making me blush there. Is it okay if I be modest for a moment? I'm a very modest person. ^.^  
  
Katrine Lila Loamsdown-Fitzgerald: Say that name three times fast! J/k Hehe. ^.^ Thank you for the lovely complements, and if you get that fic out, be sure to tell me! ^.^  
  
rome: Lol A golden goose egg! Lol. Don't tell but I borrowed it from Willy Wonka! ^.^ Yes, Merry...er Mark knew already. ^.^ And you shall see more of the Fellowship soon, probably in this one, but I'm not telling! ^.~  
  
immortaljedi: Lol. More coming your way!  
  
_Disclaimer:_ You guys already know that I don't own any of them!  
  
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Chapter Six: Nightmares  
  
  
  
"You knew?" Frank asked slowly, staring at Mark, who nodded. Frank then looked over to Peter, who looked quite uncomfortable. "You _both_ knew?"  
  
"We couldn't just tell you, Frank. I only told Peter because he overheard the end of my talk with Mr. White--" Mark tried to explain.  
  
"You talked to Mr. White about this and you told Peter...but not me?" Frank interrupted. Peter was now watching Frank, extremely not comfortable with how this was going.  
  
"I thought about telling you at lunch, but then you went to get your math homework and then you came back saying that you ran into a person in _black_. A _Nazgûl_. I couldn't just tell you then. I don't really think you would have believed me," Mark said calmly.  
  
Frank sighed and buried his face in his hands. It's not that he was upset at Mark. He had just felt that it would have been better if the two knew nothing about it. It would have been better for him to do it alone, than with them. They could be hurt or worse killed.  
  
"We know what you're thinking, Frank," Peter spoke up. "And it would _not_ have been better if we didn't know anything. You're _lucky_ we know about this."  
  
Mark nodded in agreement. "You need all the help you can get, Frank. Help just happens to be _us_," he said.  
  
"Oh, someone save me from _you two_," Frank said with a bit of a laugh. Peter grinned a little.  
  
"The only person to save you from us is Sean and he's not here," he snickered, while Mark laughed. Frank shook his head and sighed again.  
  
"Well...since we three know what's going on, how will we know who's the rest of the Fellowship?" he asked, noticing that the sky was considerably darker than it had been when he had arrived at his trailer.  
  
"I have no clue, actually. But we'll find them all, don't worry," Mark answered, patting his friend on the shoulder. Peter did the same, but paused for a moment.  
  
"Do you think you can talk your uncle into letting us eat here? I'm _starving_!"  
  
  
  
That night was yet another night of uneasy sleep and horrifying dreams for Frank Johnson. Frank dreamt all about the night on Weathertop and how Glorfindel took him and rode as fast as he could to Rivendell with the Black Riders following.  
  
Frank knew what was happening in his dreams, but he couldn't _see_ anything and he could barely _hear_ the sound of horses galloping. The main thing that Frank felt was the icy stab of pain in his left shoulder and the cold and darkness reaching out to him as he struggled to stay conscious.  
  
Right when he got to the part where he passed out, Frank fell out of his bed and woke up in a cold sweat. He saw that his blankets were tangled around his legs and that they were all soaked in his sweat.  
  
Instead of getting up and getting back into bed, Frank groaned and slammed his head on the carpeted ground. He laid there until morning, when his uncle came in to wake him up.  
  
Uncle Eric eyed Frank for a moment before taking notice to his damp sheets. "Are you all right, Frank?" he asked, worriedly.  
  
Frank waved his hand. "Fi--" he started with a high pitched voice, but then cleared his throat and continued in his normal voice, "I'm fine. Bad dreams."   
  
"Uh huh," his uncle said, walking up to his bed and examined it. "What's this?"  
  
Frank sat up and looked over the bed to see that his uncle was pointing at a spot of red on the upper part of his bed. Paling, Frank slung the twisted blankets off of him and saw that his left shoulder was indeed bleeding.  
  
"Frank!" Uncle Eric cried out and rushed over to him. Frank just stared dumbly at the blood as he prodded his shoulder with his fingers.  
  
He nearly retched when he felt that it was indeed real blood. His uncle, not caring about Frank's favorite sleeping shirt, ripped it at the seam and exposed Frank's bleeding shoulder, revealing a wound that looked horribly like the wound Frodo had received when he was stabbed by a Black Rider.  
  
"How did this happen?" Uncle Eric asked mostly to himself as he pressed his hand against the wound. Frank hissed in pain. Why _was_ his shoulder bleeding? And how?  
  
"We're going to have to go to the hospital. Frank, what _happened_?" his uncle said, helping Frank, who suddenly felt lightheaded, up. Frank didn't answer because at that momnet he felt as if he was going to hurl.  
  
  
  
Frank really didn't have to do anything as he was taken by the doctors to be examined. As soon as he and his uncle had stepped into the emergancy waiting room, the doctors and nurses came from all directions, some of them coming after spotting his blood-soaked shirt and some coming because Uncle Eric had called before going to the hostpital. They just basically patched up the wound and told him he would have to stay a night for observations.  
  
The only problem with this was that Frank had to wear a sheet of paper that showed his backside if he stood. Extremely confused and extremely embarrassed that he had to wear the piece of paper, Frank barely had his mind on his wound. That was until his uncle, Mr. White, Peter, Mark, and Sean all same into the room.  
  
Peter, Mark, and Sean were the first to make it to his bed side, while Mr. White hung back, talking with his uncle.  
  
"Frank, what on earth happened?" Peter asked, eyes wide as he saw that Frank was hooked up to some fliuds. Frank had not wanted them, but the nurse had told him that since he had lost a considerable amount of blood he would need them.  
  
"Was it a Rider?" Mark asked, his eyes wide at the sight of Frank's unusually pale face. Sean was the only one who didn't ask anything and just stood there, staring in horror.  
  
"I don't know what happened and I don't know if it was," Frank answered, lifting his right arm and wincing as he heard the paper gown rip a bit. Peter seemed to get a humorous look on his face when this happened, while Mark ignored the loud rip.  
  
"Why didn't you tell your uncle that you were bleeding sooner?" he demanded, while Frank looked at him surprised. He must have been understanding why he was bleeding.  
  
"I didn't know I was until Uncle Eric came in my room this morning to wake me up for schoo--hey, wait a minute...why aren't you guys in school?" Frank said, eyeing them suspiciously. Mark and Peter exchanged looks.  
  
"Eric checked us out while you were getting patched up. He was really upset that you didn't tell him that you were bleeding and you wouldn't tell him how you got that wound," Mark answered, pointing to Frank's left shoulder when he was saying the last part of his sentence.  
  
"If I told him how I think I got it, he would put me in an insane asylum," Frank said glumly, whishing once again that he could tell his uncle and yet he was glad that his uncle was still ignorant of what was going on.  
  
"You'd think he really would?" Peter asked, grinning as Frank reached up to rub his forehead with his right hand and his paper gown ripped some more.  
  
"Why don't they just let me wear normal clothes instead of this sheet of paper!" he moaned pathetically, while Mark and Peter laughed and Mr. White came over with a smile.   
  
"I am happy to see that you are all right, Frank," Mr. White said. Frank struggled to return the smile, but he scowled instead as his paper gown ripped when he lowered his arm.  
  
"So am I, but I would definately prefer something to wear that isn't paper--"  
  
"--and that doesn't show off you're butt," Peter finished, grinning, while Mark cracked up. Frank scowled at the two and tossed a plastic cup that was laying next to him on a tray at them.  
  
Mr. White chuckled at the boys' antics. "Yes, well, you should be glad your uncle came in at that time. I believe if you would have laid there any longer, you would have lost too much blood," he said, seriously.  
  
"I am very glad," Frank said, smiling at his uncle, who came over to his bedside.  
  
"There's still this trouble with how this happened," Uncle Eric started, pointed towards Frank's shoulder. "Some of the doctors believe _I_ did it unil you told them otherwise."  
  
Frank felt his heart sink. What could he tell his uncle? That the Nazgûl were after him because he used to be Frodo Baggins? That would _definately not_ work out.  
  
He looked over to Mark and Peter, who looked just about as uncomfortable about telling Uncle Eric as he felt. He then looked over to Mr. White, who just shook his head, telling Frank that he couldn't tell him what was really going on.  
  
"I-I don't really know how it happened. I had an extremely vivid dream about a person being chased by nine people and it seemed so real that when the person passed out, I fell off my bed. I didn't even know I was bleeding until you came in," Frank said, coming close to telling the actual truth.  
  
Uncle Eric, however, didn't look like he entirely believed his nephew's story.  
  
  
---------------  
  
Hehe. Okay, let's review. Frank is injured and in the hospital. So that means the Nazgul might have a better chance of getting him. Liking this? well, there is more coming soon! ^.~ 


	7. Legolas Greenleaf

_Author's Notes:_ Hehe. ^.^ I knew you all would like the paper! Hehe! More paper mentioned in this chapter too. ^.~  
  
Danielle53: Lol. Well, moving passed the paper gwon for a moment, I must answer your question. No, Uncle Eric is not a reincarnation of anyone that Frodo or the gang knew. *blinks* Why are you clawing at your nails nervously? Anxious for more of the story? ^.~  
  
WildWood: Glad to know that I have another reader! And, yes, you have them all correct except for Uncle Eric, he's not Bilbo. He's not anyone in particular. He's just Frank's uncle. ^.~ Answer to the Erin question: Maybe...^.^  
  
rome: Ah, yes, poor Frodo...er...Frank. ^.^ *blinks at the question* Why is everyone asking if he's Bilbo? I don't think he acts like Bilbo! Plus, Bilbo is _not_ Frodo's uncle, he's his _cousin_. *nods* He is! Look in the back of the third book, they should have a family tree in there and I think Frodo's grand-grandfather is Bilbo's granfather's brother....or was it Great-great-grandfather and great-grandfather? One of the two.  
  
The Ghost of Christmas Future: Eh...you ate a bit of chocolate there? *blinks* Don't send your dad after me! I'm working as fast as I can with school! Aragorn in the fic? Of course! And how did they end up in the same area? Fate! That's how! ^.^ *suddenly scowls* I am not Scrooge! Humbug!  
  
Crystal: Hm...now maybe? ^.^ Thanks for the lovely compliments!  
  
Moni: Ugh...I'm not explaining everything about Bilbo again. Look up at the other explanations. Erin? Arwen? *snickers* I don't really think so, but nice guess. Hehe. A Fellowship member being a girl...try to guess which one I'm planning on having being that person. ^.~  
  
Abigail: Nah, I have a plan for Aragorn...I'm still working on Gimli getting into the story, though. ^.^ Thanks for the compliments also! ^.~  
  
CoolMistaria: *blinks and blushes* Aw...it's not that good *circles the floor with her toe*  
  
immortaljedi: Kick-bum...*snickers* Update is here! ^.~  
  
_Disclaimer:_ I own only Uncle Eric so far! And he's not Bilbo!   
  
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Chapter Seven: Legolas Greenleaf  
  
  
  
The door opened and the nurse that had been coming and going out of Frank's room since he had gotten in the hospital poked her head through the door. "I'm afraid that you all are going to have to leave. The doctor's orders are to let the patient rest," she said and closed the door after pulling her head out of sight.  
  
Frank found that nurse kind of funny, but was slightly upset at her now because she had told them all to go. Mr. White, Mark, Peter, Sean (who had been quiet up until this point), and his uncle all said goodbye before leaving. Only when they were gone, did Frank understand the situation he was in.  
  
He was alone, in the hospital, with a wound on his left shoulder.  
  
Fear gripped him and Frank wondered if he could talk the nurse back in letting Mr. White or Mark or Peter or his uncle or Sean to stay, which he knew wouldn't work.   
  
Frank jumped when he heard the door open, but was relieved when he saw it was the nurse. The nurse smiled and walked into the room and over to Frank's bed. He wasn't as upset as he had been before when she came up. In fact, he didn't exactly know why he was upset in the first place.  
  
She was beautiful!  
  
Her almost-white hair was tied up and her face was the most beautiful face he had seen on a woman, but that wasn't what caught his attention the most. His eyes travelled from her face and then slowly down. Only when he heard the nurse clear her throat did he blush and looked back up to her face.  
  
She had a smirk on her face as she watched Frank's reaction. It hadn't been the first time boys of his age have given her the same look.  
  
"Feeling better, Mr. Johnson?" she asked as Frank blushed again and pulled his blankets up to his lower-chest. The nurse noted this with much humor.  
  
"F-fine," he answered, suttering. The nurse kept her smirk as she checked his fluids and then checked the wound, which had stopped bleeding a half an hour ago.  
  
Since she was so close to Frank at that moment, she winked and said, "I'm already taken."  
  
Frank felt his face go even more red. He decided to keep his eyes away from the nurse entirely while she made her checks. He only grimaced when she took off his old patches, which were damped with dark red.  
  
The nurse began to whisper things that Frank could barely hear because it just sounded like she was just breathing, but he caught the words "stabbed," "Weathertop," and "Ring Wraiths." Brows furrowed in confusion, Frank looked over to her.  
  
"Excuse me?" he asked hoarsely, wondering how the nurse could know all of this. The nurse looked up, surprised but then cursed for a moment before repatching his shoulder.  
  
"Hello, Frank," she said, finishing the patch. "Gary said that you would be comign around here sooner or later. I had been hoping it would be later though."  
  
Frank blinked in confusion. "W-what?" he asked, still not understanding how the nurse knew all about him.  
  
"Gary is Mr. White's first name. He and I were the first to really remember before that Nazgul came to the school yesterday," the nurse answered, sitting on the end of Frank's bed.  
  
"You mean...you're--?" Frank started in disbelief and the nurse laughed.  
  
"What? You didn't expect that any of us could be _girls_?" she asked, smiling down at Frank, who face was going red again.  
  
"Well...I-I didn't--I mean--" he tried to say, but the nurse interrupted him.  
  
"It's all right. Anyway, name's Lena," she said, laughing again when Frank's eyes went wide in realization. He suddenly felt very uncomfortable about the way he had taken notice to...Lena's...self.  
  
"Uh...hi...uh...Aren't you...well..." Frank struggled to ask, but failed to say the right thing. Lena smiled at Frank and stood up to check to see if any doctors or nurses would come into the room.  
  
"Am I uncomfortable about knowing that I was a guy Elf in my past?" she supplied and Frank lifted his right arm to rub his forehead again, only to have the paper tear.  
  
"Uh...yeah," he said and lowered his arm again before he could do anymore damage to the paper gown. Lena quickly checked outside the door and then closed it again.  
  
"Once in a while. But not really," she answered and gave Frank an odd look. "You aren't, are you?"   
  
"Um..." Frank started but didn't need to finish as Lena waved her hand impatiently.  
  
"Understandable. Anyway, Gary told me to keep an eye on you as much as I could, Frank. I'll try my best to stay near you, in case the Nazgûl come after you," she said, looking over to him sympathetically.  
  
"What?" Frank asked, wondering why she was giving him that look. Lena sighed and shook her head.  
  
"Nothing, Frank. Now. I told Gary you would get some rest and you really need your rest. That wound is a lot worse than you may think it is," she told him and forced him to lie down. Frank just gave her a disbelieving look, but stayed lying down, for fear his paper gown would tear more.  
  
"Oh, and here's some clothes your uncle left for you to use when you get out tomorrow," Lena said, pointing to a plastic bag that had a pair of Frank's blue jeans and a white T-shirt.  
  
"Thanks," Frank said, giving her a weak smile. Lena nodded, smiling encouragingly at him as she sat down in a small couch.  
  
Frank just lied there for a while, until he felt his eyes beginning to close on their own and he soon drifted off to sleep. The deepest, most peaceful sleep he had had in two days.  
  
  
  
The peaceful sleep did not last long though. Nightmares and old memories jumped suddenly into Frank's mind and he was soon tossing and turning. This time the memory/nightmare was about when Gandalf fell off the bridge while in the mines of Moria and as soon as Gandalf fell, Frank sat up suddenly awake, drentch in sweat.  
  
Breathing heavily, Frank wiped his forehead and looked around the dark room and saw that Lena was gone. Very much scared, Frank scanned the dark, sweat dripping down his face. It was then he felt the pain in his shoulder and noticed that his patchings were soaked with blood.  
  
A shuffle noise brought Frank back to the situation at hand. He slowly and painfully removed the fluids from his arm. He then swung his legs over the side of the bed and stood up slowly, trying in vain to cover his nued backside.  
  
He slowly made his way over to where the bag of clothes were and picked it up off the floor, still having his ears and eyes searching for a sound or shape of anything in the room.  
  
Frank got dressed quickly, ignoring his bleeding shoulder, the blood staining his white T-shirt. He listened to his heavy, shuddering breathing as he tried to look for anything in the dark.  
  
He turned around, hearing a hissing noise behind him. And then turned to his left, hearing another shuffling sound.  
  
Now no longer sure where the person was in the room, Frank backed slowly towards the door, his bare feet falpping against the cold concrete floor. Another sound of hissing.  
  
Frank's breathing was becoming shorter as panic and fear gripped his confused and half-awake mind. His eyes darted around again and that was then he bumped into someone and that someone gripped his injured shoulder painfully.  
  
Crying out in pain, Frank struggled against whoever was holding him and managed to look behind himself and see who it was.  
  
Frank's fear was confirmed as he came face to chest of a Nazgul. Frank started to tremble, the sounds of horses screaming coming to his ears. He continued to struggle against the Nazgul's hold, but that only made the pain in his shoulder blossom.  
  
"Baggins," the Nazgûl hissed, holding the boy in front of him still. "Johnson is Baggins."  
  
Frank was about to shout for help, but the Nazgûl gripped his shoulder tighter and stars exploded in his eyes. He felt as if he was going to pass out, but the tight grip released somewhat and he stayed conscious.  
  
"Wh-what do y-you want from me?" he gasped out and received another tight squeeze on his shoulder. This time, Frank fell to his knees, so close to unconsciousness that he was slightly disappointed when the grip lessened somewhat.  
  
"Baggins had it," the Dark Rider hissed. "Where is it?"  
  
Frank struggled to keep a clear mind and understand what the creature was asking. "Where is what?" he questioned and was expecting another burst of severe pain, but it never came.  
  
The light bursted on and the grip that had been on his shoulder disappeared. Frank, not expecting this, fell onto the ground with nothing supporting him. Frank was vaguely aware that a few people ran towards him, but the pain that was in his shoulder clouded his mind so much that he couldn't tell who they were.  
  
"What the hell happened here?" a man's voice asked, though it seemed distant as he felt hands take hold of his legs and his underarms. But one of the people must have brushed his left shoulder because great pain bursted into his system and Frank cried out in pain.  
  
"Frank? Frank? Oh...we need to get him into intensive care!" a woman's voice shouted as the people lifted Frank from the cool floor and began to carry him off.  
  
"Why would he be out of bed, with clothes on? How did that start bleeding so badly?" another man's voice demanded.  
  
"Out of the way, James!" the woman's voice snapped as Frank's shoulder began to burst with more pain. "HOLD HIM STEADY!"  
  
"We're trying our best!" the first man's voice shouted back and Frank was suddenly lying on something flat, almost like a bed, but not exactly one. Through all of this Frank's mind had been wandering and his eyes were shut. Just before the woman's voice began another command, Frank fell into another peaceful sleep.  
  
  
  
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Hehe, longest one! Hope you all enjoyed! ^.~ 


	8. The Stone

_Author's notes:_ Sorry it's been so long! But two of my computers crashed! Yes, we have three now! The first one crashed because of a short circut and the second crashed because...well, I don't know why, but now I'm back and ready to write! Hope I still have my fans out there still! Enjoy all! (yes, I know it's short!)   
_Disclaimer:_ Do we have to go into all this again? You all know the routine, so scat and go read the fic!   
  
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Chapter Eight: The Stone  
  
  
  
_Hands. Dead old hands that looked as if they would rot off grabbed at him, trying to snatch away the precious object he was protecting. He couldn't let them get to it, but it was getting harder and harder to keep them away as everything was becoming even more blurred and confusing.  
  
Suddenly, he let out an ear piercing scream that seemed to make the wretched hands shrink away from him. The object he was holding was burning like fire in his palm. He dropped the object when it became too hot for him to handle and grasped the hand it had burnt in pain.   
  
Then he saw_ it_.  
  
Looking up from his hand, he saw fire burning around _it_, threatening to spread. He had to shield his face from the heat as it intensified to see what was going on. The fire was forming a cirlce around the object he had dropped. A ring.  
  
_The Ring!_  
  
He stumbled foreward, trying to grab hold of the object in the center of the wheel of fire, but the flames were rising higher and higher and licked at his arms. Then he noticed that the Ring of Fire seemed to be getting larger each passing second..._  
  
  
  
A sound of something beeping filled Frank's awareness as he slowly regained consciousness. The heat he had felt from his dream remained and he began to feel as if he was literally burning alive. Once he had reached the proper level of consciousness, he slowly began to open his eyes and discovered that he was once again in a hospital room. He also noticed that he was not alone.  
  
Mr. White, Lena, and Uncle Eric were all in the room; Uncle Eric and Lena were both asleep on the chair/couch with a blanket draped over them, while Mr. White was sitting in a chair facing away from Frank.  
  
Mr. White must have heard the change in the heart moniter's beeps, because when Frank realized where he was and who was with him, he turned toward the bed and looked very much relieved. He made his way over to Frank's bedside, sat in a chair beside it, and placed a comforting hand on the youth's. Mr. White's hand felt cool against his own hot one's, which comforted Frank a bit.  
  
"Welcome back to the land of the living, Mr. Johnson," Mr. White said with a reassuring smile. Frank gave him a weak smile in return, but it melted away as he suddenly felt another burst of heat run through his system. He would have cried in pain, but his vocal cords weren't working properly.  
  
Mr. White frowned and placed his second hand on Frank's forehead. His face was grave and Frank was beginning to fear the dream he had had. Mr. White caught the look of fear in the young boy's eyes and gave his heated hand a reassuring squeeze.  
  
"It will be all right, Frank. You've been in a slight coma for two days now. It would have been three days, but you woke up right before midnight," his teacher told him, smiling a bit as Frank looked tiredly to the wall-clock and saw that it was indeed eleven fourty-two.  
  
Frank wanted to know so badly what could make this burning sensation leave him. He was feeling unseen flames all over his body and was beginning to see those very flames in the endges of his vision. Where was the object he had been holding in the dream?  
  
Frank gripped Mr. White's hand tighter as he was assaulted with another severe sensation of being burn by the never ending circle of fire. Mr. White was now wearing an even more grim expression as he watched, almost helplessly, the poor boy struggled against the unseen torment.  
  
As another jolt of the unseen torture went through him, Frank was able to find his voice and managed to gasp out, in a hoarse voice, "Had it! Uncle--" Mr. White held the boy's hand tighter as the wave passed and the boy relaxed in his bed again, panting and covered in sweat.  
  
Mr.White was looking ever more grave as he watched the youth struggled against the pull of unconsciousness. He then looked over to the two adults sleeping on the couch and called out, "Eric! Lena!"  
  
This had been enough to jolt the two awake and upon seeing Frank's condition, Lena hurried over and placed hner own cool hand upon Frank's forehead. "My God, he's burning up! If his temperature raises any higher--"  
  
"Eric," Mr. White interrupted. "Does Frank own anything that resembles a jewl or stone? Anything at all?"  
  
Clueless at what was going on, Eric Johnson held his nephew's free hand tightly and nodded, pressing his lips into a thin line. "He has necklace with a stone of some sort on it that he gotten from his Father. He doesn't have it with him. I think it's at the trailor."  
  
"I need you to go and get it. Now. This is important, Eric. Don't question until all is well," Mr. White ordered sternly as Frank began to breath heavier and was whimpering slightly in pain. Eric watched, helplessly, for another moment before nodding, releasing his nephew's hand, and heading out the door.  
  
"He's still got that stone? I thought it would have been lost like everything else," Lena muttered to herself as she took the job of holding Frank's free hand. She looked regretful as the boy gripped her hand as well as Mr. White's.  
  
The poor boy didn't need to go through all of this. Going through it one lifetime was enough.   
  
"It shouldn't be long now. Once Eric gets that stone here, Frank will recover," Mr. White told her and she nodded, feelign as if tears were going to fall, but her stubbornness kept them in check.  
  
"Where's Andrew when you need him?" she muttered to herself as he tightened her hold on the boy's hand. Mr. White gave her a wry grin and shook his head at her comment.  
  
"I believe he is in London. At least, that was where he was over a week ago. There is no telling where he is now." Mr. White brushed some of the hair that had fallen onto Frank's forehead away, chewing nervously and thoughtfully on the inside of his cheek.  
  
After several more long, and painful in Frank's case, minutes, Eric returned to the room and held up a necklace with a stone hanging off of it. He gave it to Mr. White, who removed his hand from Frank's own and placed the stone onto his palm. Frank immediately closed his fist around it and began to relax in his bed again, looking as if he were either asleep or...  
  
Eric, fearing the worst, turned to Mr. White for reassurance, but the older man had none. It wasn't until they heard the forgotten sound of the heart moniter that they took a sigh of relief. Eric collasped in a chair near the door of the room, while Lena sat beck on her heels, as she was kneeling.  
  
There was a moment of silence between the three adults, but that didn't last long, as Eric was now extremely worried about his nephew's condition.  
  
"What the hell was that, Gary? What happened to Frank? Why was he burning up like that?" he demanded, glaring at the old school teacher. Mr. White leaned back in his seat, putting a thoughtful finger to his mouth.  
  
"The only thing I can say at the moment, Eric, is that Frank is in a great deal of danger."  
  
  
  
_(A/N: Could have just left it right there, but I'm not mean! ^.^)_  
  
  
  
This time when Frank awoke, there was no Ring of Fire that was trying to engulf him in. Instead, as he opened his eyes, he was greated with the sight of someone he didn't know standing in front of him, watching him.  
  
The first thought that came to his confused mind was that it was another Nazgûl trying to get him and tried to hit the person. He was quite surprised when he actually _hit_ the person. Frank's mind seemed to clear at that moment and he sat up slightly.  
  
"That's a hell of a punch a kid's got after being asleep for a week," the man--not a Nazgûl--said, rubbing his jaw which Frank's fist had came in contact with. Frank's face went slightly red and he lied back in the bed as the man stood up, obviously not seriously injured.  
  
"Ah," the man said, rubbing his jaw one last time. "Well, I see you are much better. From what Lena had told me, I thought you would still be extremely weak, but I guess I was wrong."  
  
Frnak just stared at the man in confusion. No one else was in the room but him and the man. Suddenly, Frank didn't think he could manage another hit.  
  
"Adrenaline," Frank answered hoarsely and he then noticed that he was hooked up to more tubes and whatnot. It was a good thing he didn't mind needles.  
  
"Ah, thought I was a Nazgûl, did you?" the man asked and Frank noticed his British accent.   
  
Frank nodded slightly, but then paused as the man sat on the foot of his bed. "How'd you know about them?"  
  
"The Nazgûl? Ah, They've been looking around for you for a while. Even in England!" the man answered, chuckling a bit, but then got serious and explained, "I know about them, because I was a part of the Fellowship. My name today is Andrew Thomson. My name when the Fellowship was formed was Aragorn son of Arathorn."  
  
  
  
  
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Okay, I'm done! It is now 1:40 a.m. central time and I am in need of some serious sleep. Hope you all enjoyed and will continue to read this fic! I swear, I'll get the action going more! I just had to introduce one more of the Fellowship before the action started. Yes, the rest of the Fellowship will be in this fic, but not until later! Well, until then! Lata! ^.^ 


	9. Aragorn and Samwise

_Author's notes:_ Oh, dear *sighs* Ihaven't been a very good person, have I? I didn't mean to put off this chapter for so long...but I guess my other project(my HP fic) got the better of me. I'm SOOOOOOOOO sorry for putting this off! I hope there are still some of my old fansout there *looks nervous* Oh, in case I never told you guys before I changed my name from Keeper of Dreams to Jeva sometime in the past year(can't remember when) so I'm sorry for that tad inconvience as well...erm...*scratches head* Jeez...I guess I had better get going then.  
  
_Disclaimer:_ I own nothing! Do you hear me!....well, I own Uncle Eric. All right, people? I own him! ^.^  
  
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Chapter Nine: Aragorn and Samwise  
  
  
  
"Ara-Aragorn?" Frank stuttered in mild disbelief. Andrew Thomson gained an amused smile as he chuckled and nodded.  
  
"Yes, that was what--or shall I who?--I once was. Quite a shocker, that was, when I ran into Gary years back," he replied, now looking as if he was busy in a humorous memory. Frank gave him a small smile, not at all finding it strange to talk to someone who he had never actually met--at leat, not in this time.  
  
"...how does Mr. White know where you were? Where any of us were?" the boy asked curiously.  
  
Andrew gained a thoughtful look that made the British man look much older than he most likely was. "You know," he began dryly. "I have never wondered exactly how he did it, but now my curiosity is piqued and I'm going to ask him."  
  
"And I shall reply that I did not look for any of you," answered an amused Mr. White. Andrew stood and, smiling crookedly, walked up to the older man.  
  
"And I should retort to that statement that you have usually had 'nothing to with' anything, when you usually did have quite something to do with _everything_" The British man's eyes shone with mirth as he spoke, making it clear that he meant no insult.  
  
Mr. White chuckled. "No truer words have ever been spoken," he agreed before quickly shaking hands with Andrew and looking to Frank. "So I see you two have become aquainted. Good, good." He looked back to the second man in the room with a bit of seriousness. "Andrew, I need to speak with Mr. Johnson for a moment, if you don't mind."  
  
"Not at all," Andrew said, giving Frank a smile before leaving.  
  
"Mr. White?" Frank asked as soon as the door to the room closed. The old man seemed to be studying him, as if he were putting a last piece to a puzzle together and was now tryign to find out what the picture was.  
  
"I am very relieved that you have woken up...as is your uncle, your friends, and of course Lena," he said after a moment of silence. Frank attempted to smile at the English teacher, but the look turned out to be more of a grimace.  
  
"How long was I asleep?" he asked, curiously.  
  
"A week, as I believe Mr. Thomson has told you," Mr. White answered with a slight grin. Frank blinked for a moment before feeling his cheeks burn with embarrassment.  
  
"Oh," he muttered. "I guess I forgot."  
  
"Quite all right, my boy," Mr. White said with a bit of humor. "You have, indeed, had a lot of shock in a short amount of time and forgetfulness is nothing to be ashamed of."  
  
"Right," Frank replied hesitantly before studying the older man, who seemed to be focusing on something that the boy could not see. "Um...did you want something, Mr. White?"  
  
Seeming to snap back to the present, Mr. White grimly locked eyes with the teenager, who mentally shuddered at the look of seriousness on the elder man's face. "I am afraid I did, Frank," he said quite calmly, making Frank swallow, uneasily.  
  
"Oh...uh...what is it then?" he asked, particularly afraid that it had to do with the Nazgûl.  
  
Mr. White sat wearily down in a chair next to the bed, which Andrew must have not seen or had ignored while he had been in the room. "I believe I have found just why the Nazgûl have been after you so specifically, Frank."  
  
Frank's mouth went dry and his body went unnaturally rigid. He hadn't just said that, had he?  
  
"Open you left hand, Mr. Johnson," the old man told the boy, who dumbly stared at him for a moment before doing as told. When he did, he was shocked by what he was seeing. A small, quite stone--no bigger than a dime in size--was settled on his palm, which had once been burning hot with fever.  
  
Brows furrowing in confusion, he looked to Mr. White for an explanation.  
  
"That stone," the man said with an air of weariness and age. "was given to Frodo Baggins by the Elven Lady of the Wood Galadriel to help him overcome--"  
  
"The Ring's lingering hold..." Frank finished in a murmur, his eyes widening considerably. "But...why--?"  
  
"Why would the Nazgûl--who number seven now--be after this small stone?" Mr. White supplied before sighing, "I do not know that answer, I am afraid."  
  
Frank looked from the stone to Mr. White to the stone and then back before shaking his head. "I don't nderstand. I don't understand any of this?"  
  
"Nor do I," spoke up Andrew's voice from the doorway. Frank jumped in surprise while Mr. White shook his head in a woe-be-gone manner.  
  
"I see that your Ranger instinct is still intact," he commented with no real purpose. Andrew pushed away from the part of the doorway he had been leaning against and walked into the room, his eyes narrowed in concern and worry.  
  
"That instinct will possibly never leave. Just as this awful and horrid darkness will possibly follow young Frank here for a long time," he replied quietly, gaining a fearful look from the aforementioned teenager.  
  
"Will it--?" he began to ask, his voice shaking unsurely as he thought of being followed by darkness for yet another lifetime. Mr. White snorted, however, and interrupted his question.  
  
"Of course not, dear boy, and I'll have Mr. Thomson know that he knows that that is untrue and most rude to say," the eldest man said sharply with a look over to the British man.  
  
"My apologies, but you must admit, Gary, that --"  
  
"I must admit nothing of the sort, Andrew," Mr. White interrupted shortly.  
  
Andrew sighed. "All right, Gary, have it your way then."  
  
"If things were to go my way," Mr. White countered darkly. "Then none of us would know of our past and the Nazgûl would still be dispersed shadows."  
  
Andrew didn't reply and Frank looked to Mr. White with a slightly timid look. The English teacher took no notice of either of them at that moment and muttered to himself, "And whoever commands them would have never returned to life."  
  
  
  
"How're you feeling, Frank?" Frank smiled slightly as he sat up in bed again, happy to have some company. Sean had his head poking out from around the doorway, as if afraid to come in and catch something, which made Frank laugh.  
  
"Come on, Sean," he said, chuckling at his friend's timidness. "I'm not contagious."  
  
Sean shuffled into the room, looking nervous about being there. "It's not that...I just never liked hospitals too well, is all." Frank nodded in understanding.  
  
"Well, if it were up to me, I would be out of here," he said with a sigh before glaring at his new paper gown. "Why can't I at least wear something that doesn't rip?"  
  
"Or show your behind off," a voice added from behind Sean, making both boys to look over and see Peter with arms full of nice treats his mother must have made. "Brought these for you, Frank."  
  
Frank stared at the food. "Peter, your mother is a Saint--no, wait--more than that: she's an Angel--no--"  
  
Peter laughed at his friend while Sean allowed him entrance, looking very sullen. "I'll be sure to tell her that she has the beauty of a baked cake when I get home."  
  
"Oh, don't say that," Frank said goodnaturely.  
  
"Ah, well. It doesn't really matter, she wouldn't care," Peter replied, putting all of the treats on the desk near the bed. "Now..." He turned around and grinned when he saw Sean. "Hello there, Sean!"  
  
"You're _just_ noticing me, Peter?" Sean asked dryly and with a bit of hurt.  
  
"Just now? No," Peter answered, his grin faultering. "I just decided top say 'hello' now."  
  
Sean shifted uncomfortably. "Oh," he mumbled, looking at the floor. Peter frowned at this.  
  
"Sean--" Frank started to say, but the other boy shook his head, mostly at himself, before looking up.  
  
"I'll come back later, Frank," he said, avoiding the others' eyes as he spoke. "I got chores to do at home sicne Dad's still...under the weather."  
  
Neither Peter or Frank said anything as their friend shuffled out of the room, but both felt concerned and vaguely confused.  
  
"Does he know anything?" Peter asked in a whisper, not wanting anyone to overhear. Frank shook his head, still watching the door.  
  
"I haven't told him anything," he answered softly. "Have you?"  
  
Peter shook his head.  
  
Frank sighed. "Poor Sean. Nobody will tell him anything."  
  
Peter looked to his friend with raised eyebrows. "And you secretly want to keep it that way, don't you?"  
  
Frank blushed, having been caught.  
  
"I don't blame you, really," Peter continued. "But it can't be helped, you know?"  
  
"I know, I know," Frank replied dully. "But that doesn't mean I still can't wish it."  
  
"I don't know much about wishes, Frank," Peter said seriously. "But maybe that's just what we need. Who knows what kind of danger we all are in?"  
  
"And," added Frank darkly. "Who knows how long _this_ adventure will take to finish."  
  
  
  
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Eh...it's short, but it's better than nothing. Now for a few comments to the readers, who I have supremely disappointed *looks sad*  
  
CoolMistaria1: _'Aragorn Telcontar becomes...hahahahaaa...Andrew Thomson!'_ Erm...*sweatdrops* I just added the last name, not thinking. And I'm SO SO SO SO SO SO SO SO SO SO SO SO SO SOOOOOOOOOOOOO _SORRY_ for not updating sooner! I hope you still remember this fic and I hope you'll still love it! I'm sorry!   
  
Fool of a Took: *bristles* Ah, sod off. If you don't get the idea of the fic, then don't read it and don't leave a nasty review.   
  
Gimli der Zwerg: Hit the nail on the head. I'm American, so they shall all be American! MWAHAHAHAHAHAHA! *pauses* Nah. Boromir is gonna be Canadian, I think. And Gimli...well, I'm not too sure about him. What do you think? *curious look* 


	10. Goodbye Samwise

_Author's Notes:_ Ah! It IS good to be back! And there ARE people who remember me! *sniffles* Hello again, Estel! I remember you! ^.^ Thank you for returning again to read the fic! And hello to all newcomers! A special Welcome to Ailsa! Dudes and Dudettes, I recomend her fics. ^.^ tis very good. (sorry if I embarrass you, Aisla, but I really do think they are good!) Anyhow...time for the next part of the fic.  
  
_Disclaimer:_ I own only Uncle Eric, but don't get any wise ideas. The idea of the plot came from me too! :P No mooching! ^.^ Ideas came from LOTR and JRRT. No mooching there either! ^.^  
  
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Chapter Ten: Goodbye Samwise  
  
  
  
"I don't understand any of this," Uncle Eric said with a shake of his head as he drove Frank home two days later. Frank, who was looking out the window of the car, didn't attempt to help his uncle understand what had been going on. At that moment, worry and concern for Sean was plaguing his mind.  
  
Sean had promised to see him again but hadn't seen Frank since a few days after Frank met Andrew. Had something happened to Sean? Or had he merely been detained by his chores since his father was ill?  
  
Whatever the case was, it worried Frank.  
  
"You remember," Uncle Eric began, making his nephew jump. "what the doctor said?"  
  
Frank sighed. "Lots of fluids, no stressing work--"  
  
"That _doesn't_ include homework," his unlce added with a grin. Frank made a face.  
  
"And plenty of rest," he finished as they arrived at their trailor. Uncle Eric opened his door after turning off the engine but made no move to get out.  
  
"Frank," he said with a serious tone. "I want to know what is going on. Gary told me that you're in some sort of danger--"  
  
"Have you ever read _Lord of the Rings_?" Frank asked suddenly and quietly.  
  
"_Lord of the_--? No...I don't think I have," Uncle Eric answered in confusion. "Why?"  
  
Frank looked over to him with a small, half-felt smile. "Let's just say that I'm living a modern-day version of it," he said before climbing out of the car. Uncle Eric frowned and followed his nephew into the trailor.  
  
  
  
That night Frank didn't dare to sleep. The Nazgûl had been silent for many day and, now that he was home, they might believe he would be in a false sense of security. Instead, Frank stared at the ceiling; thinking of the past, of the present, of the Ring--  
  
He quickly grabbed the stone he now wore around his neck and willed himself away from those thoughts. The Ring was gone and he was in a different lifetime, but his soul still remembered Its influence and longed for Its presence once more.  
  
Frank shivered, remembering the madness that had come in the Cracks of Doom. Madness much like the one Gollum had suffered for many a-year.  
  
Sitting up and shaking his head, Frank sighed tiredly.  
  
"I can't take this," he whispered to himself. "Not again..."  
  
  
  
"The living dead," commented Peter the next morning and received a snort of laughter from Mark. Frank, too tired to say anything, just yawned widely and loudly.  
  
"Did you sleep at all?" Mark asked curiously, knowing very well what had kept his friend awake.  
  
"None," Frank answered, putting his face in his hands and rubbing it quickly, hoping to wake himself a bit.  
  
Peter frowned. "That's not good."  
  
"Yes, Peter, I know," Frank snapped in irritation. Peter put his hands up in a surrendering gesture while Mark watch the oldest boy curiously.  
  
"You shouldn't think about it too much," he said, and only received a weary sigh in return. "You gonna be all right?"  
  
"Yeah, I think so," Frank answered just as the bus. The three boarded, and Peter and Mark headed straight to their usual seat. Frank, however, froze as he noticed the empty seat in front of this friends.  
  
He turned to the bus driver, paling considerably as he asked, "Did Sean get on this week?"  
  
The bus driver, who Frank had known since he was young, looked at him through the mirror as he hesitated to move the bus.  
  
"I thought you could have told me where he's been," he said, a fair bit of worry coming into his features for he was close friends with the quartet of boys.  
  
Frank's heart skipped a beat, while Mark and Peter looked frightened. Both boys had been catching rides with each other's parents to visit Frank before going to school and hadn't known...  
  
Frank grabbed his books, which he had place on a seat, and rushed toward the still-open door. He didn't even realize that Mark and Peter had followed until Peter called for him to wait for them.  
  
And so he did, catching what little breath he could while his shoulder pulsed with a dull ache.  
  
"Frank," panted Mark as they reached him. "We--"  
  
"Sean hasn't been seen for _days_!" the oldest boy shouted in a panic, thinking of the worse that could have befallen his closest friend.  
  
"I'm sure he's fine, Frank," Mark said, trying to calm him down, but Frank would have none of it.  
  
"What if they have him! What if they're hurting him! He doesn't know anything!" Mark and Peter were startled to see tears threatening to spill out of their friend's eyes.  
  
Peter bit his lip. "How 'bout we see if he hasn't been home? Maybe...maybe he's there?"  
  
Frank doubted this but went along with the idea, hoping that Peter would be correct. When they reached Sean's house, however, he was almost certain that Sean wasn't there. In fact, the empty house seemed to make this point quite clear.  
  
"I can't believe it," Mark breathed, pressing his face up against the window that looked into the study. "It's _empty_."  
  
Frank's heart sank to his toes in sadness. Thinking Sean had been caught by Nazgûl was, by far, better than thinking Sean had left them without a word. Peter noticed this and rushed to raise his spirits.  
  
"I'm sure that he hasn't gone far, Frank," he said, though his voice betrayed his uncertainty. Frank sat on the steps to the house with a look of despair.  
  
"I can't do all of this without Sean," he said, desperation evident in his shaking voice. "Frodo had Samwise! Why can't I have Sean!"  
  
Mark and Peter exchanged worried looks. "I'm sure--" Peter started.  
  
"Oh, stop fooling yourself yourself, Peter!" cried Frank angrily. "You're about as sure of this as you are of twelve times twelve!"  
  
Peter's mouth clicked shut with a hurt look. Mark was shocked at it all. Frank was falling apart.  
  
Just as quickly as the anger came, it left Frank, making him feel saddened, lonely, depressed, and abandoned. "I'm sorry, Peter," he whispered, not looking at the youngest boy.  
  
Peter gave an obviously false smile. "That's okay...I was never really good at math anyway."  
  
There was no laughter. Not even forced laughter.  
  
"We should find a way to get to school," Mark said slowly, watching the still figure on the steps, who shook his head.  
  
"What's the use?" questioned Frank dully, which got Mark upset.  
  
"We'll find Sean, Frank," he stated firmly and, when he saw no reaction, shouted, "Pull yourself together, man! You want the Nazgûl to catch you just because you fall apart--!"  
  
"Why can't I fall apart!" Frank shouted back. "Aren't I allowed to at some point!"  
  
"Well, you've picked the wrong time to do it," Mark said fiercely.  
  
"It doesn't _matter_ when I fall apart!' Frank cried, pushing his hands into his hair and clutching tightly to the roots. "_Every_ time will be the _wrong_ time!"  
  
"Who said that?" demanded Mark, knowing that those were not Frank's own words.  
  
"Andrew--"  
  
"Screw Andrew, Frank!" cried Mark loudly, silencing his friend. "Andrew is _not_ all-knowing and neither are you! He's not all doing and neither are _you_! Get over it!"  
  
Silence fell on the trio, and Peter shifted uncomfortably.  
  
Frank sighed, looking at the ground and letting his hands fall from his head. "You're right," he admitted before looking up. "It's just...just too much...sometimes...I scare myself...I can't...I-I think about the Ring...and I can't stop myself."  
  
He shuddered slightly with his confession; and Mark, looking sympathetic, sat next to him.  
  
"It'll be okay, Frank," he said, putting an arm around his shoulders. "It should be easier this go-'round."  
  
"I hope so, Mark," Frank said, looking up and over to the house which was dark and empty. "I guess we should get to school."  
  
Peter jumped in with a suggestion quickly, "We could get my mom to give us a ride."  
  
Frank and Mark looked at each other before turning to the youngest boy, asking, "Breakfast?" in a hopeful tone.  
  
  
  
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Well, that's all for that chapter. Now, I bet I know what you're thinking....You're thinking: "What happened to SEAN?! EVIL!" Well, it's all a part of the story--((Javexalot: *whispers* she is lying to thee--)) *shoves the Old English persona out of the way* You stay in the Hp section! ((Javexalot: Hmph! *goes back to the Hp fic*)) *sweatdrops* You saw none of that, but what she said was true...*sighs* I was inspired during Fine Art(music class....why do I take it when I'm in band already? I'll never know why....) and I came up with the idea. Don't worry, there IS a reason.  
  
Hope you've all enjoyed your read and I'm sorry if it's too short. No worries, there. I have some of the next chapter written down on paper and should be up soon. It SHOULD be the longest chapter *sweatdrops* Well...ja ne! ^.~  
  
  
  
PS: ".ti deveihca uoy woh ta rednow srehto tel dna eciuj eparg ekam ,snomel uoy sevig efil nehW" --Unkown   
(see if you can read the Mirror Message ^.^ *is starting a tradtion* The one who posts the correct phrase will have the next chapter dedicated to them and, if they want, I will brag about their fics. ^.^ Good luck!) 


	11. Waiting

_Author's notes:_ Well, this didn't turn out as long as I had planned, but I guess it's a little longer than the last chapter.  
  
MerryPenDragon: *scratches head and shrugs* That's what my sister told me. If it's incorrect it's her fault and now this fic is only a tid bit AU when it talks about the books. ^.^ Aren't I a genius, coming up with that solution? J/k. ^.^ I'll look into it though(once my mother gets the lock off of the storage building!)  
  
Eryn: *blinku* Who says Sean got kidnapped? *evil look* Maybe he just moved away without telling anyone *another evil look* .oot ,segassem sdrawkcab eht evol I ^.^ Lol. !suineg ton ioM .ecuij eparg otni snomel nrut ot woh nrael reve ll'I kniht t'nod I ^.^ *blinks* Talent? Where? *sees Talent running off* Hey! Come back! *chases after it*  
  
Ailsa: Eh...Sean's gone away somewhere. Won't say were...wouldn't be nice of me to spoil it ^.~ Oh, don't worry. He'll be back sooner or later ^.~ After all...it's as you said Frodo couldn't manage without Sam so Frank'll need Sean. ^.^ Thanks for the review! Hope you're feeling better!  
  
ViNguyen: Lol. How did I know someone would do that? Lol! Thanks for the review! ^.^  
  
**DEDICATION TO MERRYPENDRAGON! Yep. First reviewer for chapter ten and who turned the message rightways. ^.^** (yes, it was a silly little message, but I thought it was funny ^.^)  
  
Anyways...ON WITH THE FIC! ^.^  
  
_NOTE: ERICH IS PRONOUNCED THE SAME AS ERIC WHICH IS WHY MARK SAYS IT "ERIC" INSTEAD OF ERICH IN THIS CHAPTER._  
  
_Disclaimer:_ Look to previous chapters and find out.(too lazy to type it out this chapter ^.^")  
  
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Chapter Eleven: Waiting  
  
  
  
Two days crawled by for Frank. Ever since he had discovered Sean's departure, he had been more afraid of being alone than anything. Every day could be seen with Mark, Frank, and Peter all together; Mark and Peter would be speaking in low voices while Frank offered no words of opinion.  
  
The threat of the seven remaining Nazgûl lied silent for those two days, making all who knew anxious and terrified of what was to come. When was the threat going to show itself?, they all wondered, though they dreaded the time they would come out of the shadows.  
  
Even with these feeling, none spoke of the suspense of waiting.  
  
  
  
Frank silently took a small bite of his pizza while Mark helped Peter with his geometry, which was a headache for the both of them. It had been a tiring day for them all as all of the teachers had conspired against them, loading them with tons of homework, as well as several essays(in the case of English and Science).  
  
To top it all off, one of the essays was to be done in pairs...  
  
...and Frank had Erin as a partner.  
  
"No, no!" Mark objected; and Peter tossed down his pencil in aggitation, clutching his head as he moaned. "_A_ squared plus _B_ squared equal _C squared_!"  
  
"Well, how am I supposed to find--" Their small--and, to Frank, slightly amusing--squabble ceased abruptly; and the oldest looked curiously to where they were looking, only to blink in surprise.  
  
Erin was standing right behind him.  
  
"I need to talk to you," she said shortly and quickly, retreating a few steps afterward and leaving Frank in bewilderment.  
  
"Well," commented Peter with a grin. "That was interesting and new."  
  
Mark nodded in agreement. "Better go see what she wants. Don't want to see her cause a mess."  
  
Frank stared blankly at the pizza he was still holding before he put it down on his tray, stoof, and left. Behind him, Mark and Peter eyed his plate hungrily.  
  
"Think he'll notice?" Peter asked without looking to Mark, who answered, "Nope," and pounced on the food at the same time as his younger friend.  
  
  
  
Frank found Erin out in the courtyard, which was prettu much empty because the bell was soon to ring. The blonde-headed girl was facing away from him, arms crossed in an effort to keep warm in the early-November, chilly air.  
  
Taking some pity on her, for she seemed to have forgotten her jacket inside and didn't look to want to go inside, Frank slid his own jacket off of his shoulders--thankfully wearing long-sleeves--and held it toward her.  
  
"Here," he said, making her turn toward him in surprise. When she didn't take the jacket, Frank sighed in frustration and, opening the jacket wide, placed it on her shoulders quickly before backing away slightly.  
  
"Warmer?" he asked, noticing how his breath froze in the air as he spoke.  
  
Erin, who seemed to be a little shocked at his actions, looked at him curiously. "Why'd you do that?"  
  
Frank groaned and gestured around them in annoyance. "Because it's cold? What, I can't ever be a gentleman?" he questioned.  
  
Erin looked as though she was biting back a retort and, instead, said, "We need to talk."  
  
Frank blinked. "Well, I'd assume so," he said, sarcasm creeping into his voice. "Why else would I be out here?"  
  
Erin just stared at him coldly.  
  
"Fine," he sighed in defeat. "What do you want to talk about--?"  
  
"Nazgûl," she said promptly, making Frank freeze.  
  
"Wh-what?" he choked out, barely believing what he had heard. How could she--?  
  
"What. Is. A. Nazgûl?" Erin asked through gritted teeth. Poor Frank could only stand there and stare as his breath became quick and short.  
  
Erin, however, took his silence as an answer and sighed, "This is really weird."  
  
That snapped the boy out of his stunned stated. "How do you--?"  
  
"I don't know," snapped the girl angrily. "I was just tlaking to Melissa about some..._stupid_ novel and when she said something I thought two words _without_ thinking. Nazgûl and Johnson."  
  
When he didn't reply, Erin shouted, "Why did I even bother! I'm just going crazy!"  
  
She tried to leave, but Frank stopped her.  
  
"Wait," he said, quickly grabbing her arm. "You said you just thought it...just like that?"  
  
She glared at him, angry that he had touched her, Frank assumed.  
  
"Not 'just like that,'" she said impatiently. "I didn't even really think it! It just _came_."  
  
Frank blinked. "Well, that doesn't make any sense," he mutter to himself, looking confused.  
  
Erin jerked her arm out of his grasp. "You know what? Forget I said anything," she said before shrugging off the jacket and tossing it to Frank. "Thanks a lot."  
  
Frank watched as she stalked back into school before he looked to his jacket, muttering, "Just like that?"  
  
  
  
"Just like that," mused Mr. White as he leaned back into his seat.  
  
"Yes, Sir," Frank said, shifting a bit. WHen he had decided to tell Mr. White, he hadn't expected to find Andrew already talking to the teacher in a low, urgent voice and that he had been followed by Peter and Mark.  
  
To be honest, Frank wasn't sure why this news was so important.  
  
"I had never considered..." murmured the English teacher, while the British man sighed.  
  
"Didn't Brian say--" he started.  
  
"Brian?" asked Peter in confusion.  
  
"Boromir," was the collective answer, making the one-time Hobbit blush in embarrassment.  
  
"You found him?" Mark questioned, realizing what he had just said. Andrew nodded.  
  
"He was in Canada--"  
  
"O, Canada?" Peter asked with a bit of a smirk, getting elbowed by Mark as he did.  
  
"Yes," replied Andrew with some exasperation. "Now if you all are finished, may I finish what I had begun to say?"  
  
No one said anything, so the one-time Ranger turned to Mr. White. "Brian said that there were others besides the Fellowship. It's not impossible to believe, Gary, but there's a problem."  
  
Mr. White didn't reply, seeming to understand the implication. The teenaged boys, however, did not.  
  
"Problem?" echoed Frank, not fully understanding what Andrew had been saying. The tall man turned to the short boy with troubled eyes and a weary ecpression.  
  
"Brian found someone where he is who retains the memories of Èomer. His name is Erich and his family is divorced. Three guesses to where his father and sister live," he said with dry humor.  
  
"Eric?" Mark asked while Frank covered his face with his hands.  
  
"Erin's brother!" he moaned.  
  
Andrew nodded, a bit of amusement creeping into his eyes as he watched the boy. "Erich has the memories of Èomer and you now tell me that Erin is remembering as well? That would suggest that it is Èowyn, but we cannot take this lightly."  
  
He paused for a moment, studying each of them. "Here is where the problem presents itself: if these two, who played no part in the Fellowship, have retained their memories...what of our enemies?"  
  
Again there was silence.  
  
"I believe," Mr. White said quietly, disrupting the penetrating silence. "that the answer to that question will be answered shortly. We merely have to wait for it."  
  
  
  
"Andrew's a bit of a pessimist, if you ask me," Peter said as he, Frank, and Mark walked home that afternoon. Mark shifted his booksack and shrugged.  
  
"What did you expect?" he asked, giving Peter a curious look.  
  
"I dunno...more of Aragorn?" the younger boy suggested while his friend rolled his eyes.  
  
"Aragorn was a bit of a pessimist, too. He just expects the worse because it may just happen," Frank said before Mark could say anything. Peter blinked in surprise at the statement.  
  
"I guess," he agreed hesitantly.  
  
"Besides," added Mark. "He might know something we don't. They tend to not tell us things. Remember?"  
  
Peter made a face. "That sucks if there really is a Saruman running around."  
  
"At least," Frank put in quietly. "Sauron's soul was destroyed with the Ring."  
  
Neither of the others replied.  
  
It was then that the sound was heard. Frank looked first toward his left and then his right while Mark and Peter tried to place the sound. It was soft--too far away to be heard clearly.  
  
It chilled the three to the bone with its ominous whisper of sound. It almost reminded them of--  
  
Frank paled.  
  
"They have _horses_?" His voice shook as he spoke, gaining Mark and Peter's attention. All of them listened to the quiet galloping, looking to all sides, wondering where they would come from.  
  
Mark was the first to speak.  
  
"Maybe they aren't coming this way," he whispered as he drew himself closer to Frank. "Maybe...maybe they're--"  
  
His voice was drowned by the shriek of several horses, their locations indistinct. The hair on the back of Frank's neck rose as his mind recalled the chilling sound of Nazgûl steeds, horses that had been mistreated and tormented to become the bearers of what was left of the Black Riders.  
  
"Let's get inside a house," Frank whispered, looking to the East. "Hurry."  
  
And, without further prompting, Mark and Peter took off running; Frank tailed them, all the while looking back to the East for a sign of them. Any sign.  
  
...he didn't wait long.  
  
  
  
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Oooh...suspense...don't you just love it? ^.^" You know you love me for it! Anyway...um...this chapter I'm making a request for you reviewers to answer...um...I've been kind of having trouble finding more fics that I HAVEN'T read and...well...maybe you guys know of some good fics that I could read. If you know of a fic you enjoyed, send in a suggestion! Cause I need to pass the time between coming home from school and waiting for Yu-Gi-Oh and Inuyasha to come on. ^.^ Thanks for the help in that area.  
  
Message: ".esrevinu lellarap a ni dekrap yllanogaid m'I ekil leef I" -Unknown (Too true. Too true ^.^)  
  
Anyways, that's all for today! Hope you've all enjoyed! Ja ne! ^.~ 


	12. Facing Memories

_Author's notes:_ Sorry, sorry, sorry. I know, I know. It's taken me half a year to get this out. And it's probably not even that great of a chapter. In fact, this chapter is so cheesy in the middle, I felt like barfing as I typed it up. When did I write it on paper, anyway? *shakes head* Well, I hope you'll read it. Arigatou! ^.^  
  
_Disclaimer:_ Shut up and read :P ^.^"  
  
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Chapter Twelve: Facing Memories  
  
  
  
  
A midnight steed that carried a black-robed figure appeared on the hill in the East, and Frank urged himself and his friend onward to safety. They only needed to reach Peter's...then they would be safe...  
  
They would be safe...  
  
"Frank!" Peter called from ahead, taking notice of how the eldest boy was falling far behind. Mark turned to look and skidded to a sop, watching in horror as the figure on the hill raced to Frank.  
  
"He's coming! Hey's coming! Frank!" he shouted, pointing to the dark figure as it came closer and closer. Frank struggled to run faster, but the concrete ground felt like sand and his lungs burned. Something was making his escape difficult, but he was going to make it.  
  
"Don't stop!" he shouted to Mark and Peter as he came closer. "Keep moving!"  
  
The two boys hesitated for only a second before taking off again, this time they were to scared to look behind them and didn't see the second horse-rider that came out of the shadows and cut Frank's route off. They didn't know any of this had happened until they heard Frank's shout. Both stopped at once and stared in horror as the two horsemen circled their friend, leaving him with no room to escape.  
  
"Frank!" Peter cried and tired to go toward the dark ring of Nazgûl, but stopped as Mark held him back, pointing to the shadows which grew longer as the day's light became spent. Night was approaching and was reigned by the Nazgûl.  
  
"Go on!" Frank shouted, trying to find a way out but was having to lose what ground he gained as the metal claws of the Riders reached for his neck--for the stone he wore. "Go on! Get to safety!"  
  
Mark shouted, "We aren't letting them have you!"  
  
If the situation hadn't been so dire, Frank would have been touched by how much Mark and Peter cared for him. Since it was so serious, however, Frank shouted, "Just go on! Get Mr. White! Get Andrew! Lena! Just g--"  
  
"Frank!" the two boys cried as one of the Nazgûl gripped tightly to the neck of the third boy, clenching his windpipe and making it difficult to breath as he was lifted off of the ground.   
  
Frank struggled to find solid ground under his feet, but no matter what he did, his feet only met air. He gasped for oxygen but found it difficult with the wraith's hand squeezing his neck. He tried to pry the hand away from his neck, but he was too weakened and was getting weaker from the lack of air.  
  
"Peter!" Frank heard Mark cry but couldn't see what was going on. His lungs burned and his heart strained to beat oxygen into his body. Strength was ebbing away and, soon enough, he couldn't keep his arms up. They fell to his sides and he dangled limply in his foe's grasp.  
  
"...God..." he choked out, not believing this was happening to him. But it was real, it was happening, and it was no dream or memory.  
  
Everything seemed to go silent as Frank gazed blankly at the two hooded and cloaked figures that gave him no mercy. That only wanted one thing from him...  
  
Just as Frank's vision began to get slightly dim, the black figures shrieked with pain and surprise; and the one who held Frank released his sharp grip. Frank fell to the ground with a thud, his head slamming into the concrete so hard that it bounced up once before falling onto the ground again.  
  
The nightmares' shrieks continued, and the sound of running horses showed that the Nazgûl were retreating. They weree leaving. Mark and Peter would be safe...  
  
Frank vaguely felt himself be sat up slightly by someone with large arms. Large hands felt along his neck and then the back of his head. It was then that Frank heard his own wheezing breath that were so shallow that he felt dizzy.  
  
"It's all right, Little Guy," a deep, harsh voice assured the near-unconscious youth, who tried to keep himself awake.  
  
"Frank!" shouted two familiar voices as two set of running steps raced toward the two on the road. "Oh, God...is he--?"  
  
"He'll be just fine," the gruff voice answered tightly. "Might have a but of whip-lash, judging by how his head slammed into the street."  
  
"Why...why's he breathing like that?" Peter's voice asked with a bit of fear and Frank could understand why. He was frightened as well. How much longer would he be able to keep awake?  
  
"Here," the man's voice said roughly. "Call Gary. Tell him what's happened and--"  
  
"Wait," Mark said suspiciously. "Who are you, anyway? Why should we trust you?"  
  
"Oh! You think I _like_ risking my..."  
  
The words faded from Frank's hearing as he was finally over-comed by the pull of whatever dark thing was waiting for him.  
  
  
  
  
**Peace and quiet. No one disturbed him while he was in this room, though they never had reason to not go into the room.  
  
But why was there peace? Why was it so quiet?  
  
The person in the room looked up and over, curiously to the door. It was odd that things were so silent. When was the last time there was peace? Not for a long, long time; that was a fact.  
  
The person stood and walked over to the door--which was a barrier, it seemed--and leaned his ear against it, listening for any from the other side. All was silent--  
  
No, wait...there was a noise. Quiet, but still audible.  
  
Brow furrowed, the person turned the doorknob and tried to open the door. His confusion now turned into bewilderment as he tried, yet again, to open the door.  
  
...it didn't dudge.  
  
"Why would someone lock it?" he wondered, becoming worried as he tried--and failed--to open the door for the third time. "Hello!" he called, rapping his knucles against the wood. He paused for a moment, listening closely through the door, and tried again, "Hello? Is anyone out there?"  
  
Silence...  
  
No! A mutter. Indistinct and confused.  
  
"Please! Let me out!" called the person in the room. When he pressed his ear to the door this time, he heard a faint sob and frowned in concern for whoever was outside the room.  
  
"Are you injured?" he asked. "Please! Let me out so I can help!"  
  
The reply, this time, was coherent and the person could make it out throught the wood. "You're not *real*!" the voice shouted, tears in his voice. "I don't want to be! Go away! Stay in there! Leave me alone!"  
  
The person pushed himself away from the door, pain in his expression. "But I am real," he objected.  
  
"No!" shouted the voice.  
  
"Why mustn't it be so?" he demanded and, when there wa a long paused, worried that the one who owned the voice had left. "Are--"  
  
"Just leave me alone!" the voice cried in a tearful demand. The person's mood dropped. He was saddened that this person, whoever it was, seemed to hate him, and not just he himself but just the _idea_ of him!  
  
"Why do you hate me so?" he questioned, becoming upset with this realization.  
  
There was a pause but shorter this time. "You want to know why I hate you so much?" the voice asked coldly, making the person cring away from the door. "Open the door and see."  
  
The person hesitated but did as the voice had said. The door swung soundlessly open, and the person stared into a dark area that hadn't been there before. Where was the fireplace? The pictures?  
  
He stepped slowly into the darkened room, which immediately became bright with light. He blinked and took in the surroundings. Small and quaint, but comfortable. It didn't look like a home he had been used to seeing. It was all cluttered, however, with small notes. The walls, the ceiling--he stepped on something and looked down--why, even the floor!  
  
_'Why me? I was happy as an average, ignorant kid living with an uncle whose car keep breaking down!'_  
  
The person jumped away from the angry written note, but ran into another.  
  
_'I can't be afraid anymore. It's not allowed. Especially--'_  
  
"What is this madness?" he demanded, looking around the room and seeing nothing but notes and words such as "can't" or "won't" or "fair."  
  
"I believe I am quite sane," retorted the voice, and the person spun around to see a man--no, he was still young yet--standing as far away from the person as possible. "In fact..._you're_ the only one who's ever gone mad."  
  
The person retreated a step. "That," he said coldly, "was not of my own doing or choosing."  
  
The boy, who stood nearly two heads taller than the other person, watching him with blue eyes.   
  
Very familiar blue eyes.  
  
Again, the person back away. "Who are you?" he asked, confusion and a fair bit of fear creeping into his voice.  
  
The boy sighed and leaned against a wall. "I'm supposed to be you...but I'm not."  
  
"What does that mean?" questioned the other person. The boy's eyes filled with tears and he looked away from the innocent-looking person before him.  
  
"Eveyone expects me to be like you! But I can't be...I'm _not_ you. I'm someone totally different," he took a quick breath, becoming more upset, "but they don't _see that_!"  
  
"Why would you be me?" asked the person quietly.  
  
The boy's mouth turned into a lop-sided smile. "Because I'm a reincarnation of you."  
  
There was a brief silence.  
  
"Then what am I?" the person, who was slowly beginning to understand, asked.  
  
"A memory," answered the boy. "Or maybe _this_ is what is considered 'Undying!'" He wiped his eyes and swallowed. "And it all _hurts_. I have every memory and even the memories have come after me because of what I am and who I'm supposed to be."  
  
"Who are you then?" the person asked softly, in an effort to comfort the lad.  
  
Another crooked smile. "Frank Johnson, Frodo Baggins."  
  
The person--Frodo Baggins of Middle Earth and Shire--looked questioningly at Frank, who looked away as the smaller being studied his counterpart. "You resent me," Frodo said slowly, "for leaving behind memories--"  
  
"Not just memories," Frank interrupted sharply. "Nightmares from your world are in my own now. Do you see?"  
  
Frodo flinched and looked away from the dark bruises that encircled Frank's neck. he shivered, knowing what had been the creature to leave behind such marks.  
  
"Nazgûl," Frank continued, "chase me now, but they seek no Ring. They have no Sauron, yet they come for me because I carry something you once had."  
  
Frodo's brow furrowed. "I'm sorry for everything. That bearing my burdens...no one should have to." He looked away. "But...there's a reason you are who you are."  
  
Frank didn't say anything.  
  
"I'm sorry," Frodo continued. "I know what it is like to have my world turned upside-down, and I understand the trouble of such burdens...but perhaps--"  
  
Frank cut him off by walking over and squatting down in front of him, finishing, "Maybe...we aren't as different as I thought."  
  
Frodo gained an amused look and replied, "Oh, we're different but not entirely so. No matter what _you_ may think, I _am_ real and a part of you."  
  
Frank smiled back with a real smile. "I guess I never got a chance to understand that."  
  
"As I never had a chance to accept some things--" Frodo froze and Frank looked upward. Darkness penetrated the ceiling and slowly spread itself outward, a plague of evil ancasing whatever it touched. "What's happened?" Frodo asked while Frank looked at the Darkness with fear, and missed a part that had detached itself from the main part.  
  
Frodo turned to it. And it pounced--**  
  
"Frodo!" Frank cried, but he was no longer in the room. Now he was awake in an unfamiliar room, several blankets and quilts stacked on him as he lied in the bed.  
  
Propped on his elbows, Frank waited out the wave of dizziness that came. Where was he? What happened on the street? Where--?  
  
It was then that all the pains came. Frank gasped and tears prickled his eyes as muscles in his neck felt ready to rip away from one another. He tried to keep from crying out, but a shout of agony bursted through his lips. Immediately, the door opened and Mark rushed in--for once, without Peter behind him. "Frank!" he shouted in alarm, relief, and worry.  
  
"Oh, God," Frank croaked, his throat sore, as he reached to his neck, tears falling. "Oh, God. Mark, make it stop! Make it stop hurting!"  
  
Mark looked helpless and took his friend's arm, pushing him into the pillows while Frank cried out in pain. mark winced, but the crisis was passed for the moment. Frank continued to cry silently as his muscles seized up, making the pain worse. Mark watched his friend with worry.  
  
"You shouldn't move too much," he said softly, while Frank looked up at him tearfully. "I'll get Lena. She said to get her when you woke up."  
  
Mark was about to leave when he heard Frank ask, pain still in his voice, "What are the blankets for?"  
  
The younger boy sighed. "The Nazgûl's glove...the claws on the glove...had something in it." He turned to face Frank. "You're just ill. You'll be fine."  
  
A shaky smile was managed before Mark turned and left to get Lena.  
  
  
  
  
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Okay, I am TELLING YOU! Whip-lash hurts like HELL! Yes, I speak from experience. The worst thing is that I didn't get it froma car wreck or soemthing. No, I got it because my mom wouldn't let me go and my lil sis was pulling on me...then my mom let me go and BOOM...down on the ground like a rag-doll, head bouncing PAINFULLY off of the ground, thus causing my muscles to become over-strained and causing the whip-lash. I didn't even go to the doctor because I didn't feel hurt until the next morning and I never like missing school. I had to check out during lunch, however, because I was getting dizzy and weak. *shakes head* Trust me on this people. Whip-lash = two words: Not. Fun.  
  
I wrote up this chapter right after I recovered from it(which was MONTHS ago, gomen ^.^") so I still remembered how it felt when I wrote this. Let me say this too: my neck hurt so bad I was in tears half of the time I was awake(I was asleep a lot during this time). I couldn't move my head or sit up or go from standing to sitting to lying down. It hurt SOOOOOO bad. I found that rubbing the sore muscles REALLY helped. Thank God my dad is terrific at the massaging thing, though that was just as painful as anything else.  
  
Okay, ranting over. ^.^" Again, I am VERY sorry for not updating this in SO long. This fic is treated worse than my Harry Potter fic *shakes head, disgusted at herself* Oh, well...this chapter is somewhat longer than the others. ^.^" Go me! And no, I won't tell any of you where Sean went! MWAHAHAHA! Well, I hope someone reads this ^.^" Thank you if you do. Ja ne! ^.~! 


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